CHAPTER 1
“That woman needs to stay out of sight when people are coming over!”
My brother’s voice carried across the yard before I even reached the back gate.
I froze with one hand wrapped around the handle of my suitcase.
Godfrey was talking about my wife.
Phedra.
I looked through the narrow opening beside the fence and almost stopped breathing.
She was kneeling on the concrete beside a shattered dinner plate, picking up sharp pieces with her bare fingers.
Her hair was gone.
Completely gone.
The woman I remembered had thick dark curls that fell over my shoulder when she slept. The woman in front of me had a shaved head, sunken cheeks, trembling hands, and wrists so thin I could have wrapped my fingers around them.
A bucket of filthy water stood beside her.
“Don’t leave pieces behind,” my mother shouted from inside.
Selina.
“If somebody gets cut, I’ll deduct the replacement plate from your food money.”
Phedra lowered her head.
“I understand.”
My stomach turned.
No one had seen me yet.
I had come home three weeks early because the metalworking plant in Calgary had been temporarily shut down after another safety inspection.
Most of the men I worked with planned vacations.
I planned a surprise.
For four years, I had worked twelve-hour shifts around furnaces, presses, and cutting machines. I had slept in a cramped apartment with other workers, eaten reheated food from plastic containers, and watched Canadian winters turn the streets white while I counted the months until I could come home permanently.
Every month, I sent money.
Two thousand.
Sometimes three.
More when overtime was good.
Christmas bonuses.
Holiday pay.
Almost one hundred thousand dollars altogether.
I sent it to my mother because she managed the household finances.
The money was supposed to complete renovations on our family home.
It was supposed to help Godfrey become stable.
Most importantly, it was supposed to make sure Phedra never struggled while I was away.
I trusted them.
That realization hurt more than anything.
During every phone call, Phedra had told me she was fine.
“I’m okay, my love.”
“Don’t worry about me.”
“Just come home safely.”
Then several months ago, she stopped using video.
She blamed the internet.
Then her phone.
Then exhaustion.
Standing behind that fence, I finally understood.
Phedra tried to rise.
Her knees gave way.
She grabbed the edge of a plastic chair before she fell.
Godfrey stepped outside wearing a shirt I knew cost more than Phedra’s entire outfit.
He held a glass of scotch.
His watch flashed in the sunlight.
“Come on,” he snapped. “We need those plates before everyone arrives.”
Phedra swallowed.
“I’m dizzy.”
“So?”
“I didn’t eat much yesterday.”
Godfrey laughed.
“After everything you stole from this family, you should have enough hidden somewhere to buy dinner.”
My hand tightened around the suitcase.
I wanted to smash the gate open.
I wanted to put Godfrey through the wall.
But working around industrial machinery had taught me patience.
When a machine started making the wrong sound, you didn’t immediately hit buttons.
You listened.
Because the sound told you where the damage started.
So I stayed silent.
“I need to call Damian,” Phedra whispered.
My heart stopped.
Selina appeared in the doorway.
And around her neck was a small golden hummingbird.
I recognized it instantly.
I had given that necklace to Phedra on our fifth wedding anniversary.
“He deserves to know,” Phedra said. “The doctor said I shouldn’t stop treatment.”
Selina touched the necklace.
“You’re not calling him.”
“Please.”
“My son is working himself to death overseas. He doesn’t need you filling his head with your problems.”
“This isn’t a problem.”
Phedra’s voice broke.
“I’m sick.”
Selina rolled her eyes.
“Everybody is sick with something.”
“The doctor said treatment has to continue.”
“Doctors say whatever gets them paid.”
Phedra stared at her.
“You have money.”
Selina’s expression hardened.
“Watch yourself.”
“Damian sends money every month.”
“He sends it to my account.”
The words came slowly.
Deliberately.
“That means I decide what happens to it.”
Phedra looked toward the driveway.
“You bought the SUV.”
Godfrey’s smile disappeared.
“You renovated the kitchen.”
Silence.
“You paid for Godfrey’s garage.”
“Auto shop,” he corrected.
Phedra ignored him.
“And I’ve been sleeping in the storage shed.”
My vision blurred.
Storage shed?
I followed Phedra’s gaze.
There was a small structure behind the house with a rusted metal roof.
That was where they had put my wife.
“I don’t want anything else,” Phedra said quietly. “I just want to finish treatment.”
Selina crossed her arms.
“You should have considered the burden you’d become before getting sick.”
That was enough.
I pushed open the gate.
The metal slammed against the wall.
My suitcase dropped from my hand.
Godfrey’s glass slipped from his fingers and shattered.
Selina grabbed her chest.
But I barely saw either of them.
Phedra looked at me.
Her eyes widened.
“Damian?”
I crossed the yard.
She tried to stand again, but I reached her first.
I dropped to my knees and pulled her carefully against me.
She weighed almost nothing.
She smelled like bleach, damp fabric, and medicine.
“Damian…”
“I’m here.”
She touched my face as if she needed proof.
“You’re really here.”
“I’m home, honey.”
Then she started crying.
Not loudly.
That would have been easier.
She cried silently against my chest like someone who had learned that making noise only caused more trouble.
Behind me, Selina recovered.
“Damian, you need to understand—”
I turned.
“What happened to my wife?”
“It’s not what you think.”
Godfrey stepped forward.
“She’s been difficult.”
“Difficult?”
“She breaks things. She lies. She steals.”
Selina nodded quickly.
“Since becoming ill, she has made this whole household miserable.”
Phedra flinched.
Selina continued.
“She even tried stealing jewelry.”
I stared at the hummingbird necklace.
“Jewelry like that?”
My mother’s hand immediately covered it.
Phedra wiped her face.
“I tried to sell it.”
Selina’s eyes flashed.
“To pay for a doctor’s appointment,” Phedra added. “She took it from me.”
I felt something inside me go cold.
I looked at Phedra.
“What are you sick with?”
Nobody answered.
“Phedra.”
She touched the side of her chest.
“Cancer.”
The entire yard disappeared around me.
“How long?”
“Eleven months.”
Eleven months.
I had worked overtime during those eleven months.
I had sent Christmas money.
A safety bonus.
My tax refund.
Money from selling my old truck in Calgary.
Almost every spare dollar I had.
Selina started talking about treatment costs.
Godfrey talked about survival rates.
I stopped listening.
I looked inside the house.
New flooring.
Leather couches.
A television big enough to cover half a wall.
Granite countertops.
Then I looked through the front window.
A new SUV.
Godfrey held a brand-new phone.
My wife wore cracked sandals and an old blouse I remembered from six years earlier.
I faced Selina.
“How much?”
She frowned.
“How much what?”
“How much of the money I sent did you spend on Phedra’s treatment?”
“We took her several times.”
Phedra shook her head.
“Twice.”
Selina glared at her.
“Don’t exaggerate.”
“Twice,” Phedra repeated.
Eleven months.
Two appointments.
I slowly stood and lifted Phedra with me.
“We’re going to the hospital.”
Selina moved in front of the door.
“You are not walking into this house after four years and acting like we’re criminals.”
I rolled up my sleeve.
Burn marks crossed my forearm.
Scars ran along my wrist.
“I worked nights.”
Nobody spoke.
“I slept in one room with four men.”
Godfrey looked away.
“I spent two Christmases alone.”
My voice shook now.
“I did all of that because I thought nobody here would ever have to choose between medicine and food.”
Selina lifted her chin.
“And we never did.”
I looked at Phedra.
“She did.”
Godfrey stepped closer.
“You’re responsible too. You left.”
The words hit harder than I wanted them to.
Because part of me believed him.
Selina saw it.
“Exactly. Phedra brought half of this trouble on herself, and you brought the other half by abandoning your responsibilities here.”
Phedra gripped my shirt.
She was waiting for me to explode.
I didn’t.
Instead, I pulled out my phone.
Seventeen missed calls.
All from the same Canadian number.
There was an email too.
It had arrived while my plane was crossing the Atlantic.
I opened it.
“You’re right,” I said.
Selina blinked.
“Excuse me?”
“Standing here shouting won’t solve anything.”
Her shoulders relaxed.
Godfrey exhaled.
“We should talk calmly,” I continued. “Like family.”
“That’s all I’ve been saying,” Selina replied.
“Actually, I was planning to tell you something tomorrow.”
Her eyes dropped toward my phone.
The message confirmed why the Canadian lawyers had called me seventeen times.
Two years earlier, a safety failure at the Calgary plant had injured my shoulder.
The investigation had uncovered violations far worse than anyone originally knew.
My claim had finally been settled.
One million dollars.
I watched Godfrey’s mouth fall open.
Selina’s eyes widened.
I hadn’t returned home looking for revenge.
Until twenty minutes earlier, I had believed my sacrifices had protected the people I loved.
Now I knew what my trust had purchased instead.
A vehicle.
A business.
A remodeled kitchen.
And eleven months of suffering for my wife.
So I told Selina and Godfrey about the million dollars.
I simply left out one important detail.
The settlement had not reached my account.
May you like
Not yet.
It was scheduled to clear in nine days.
