CHAPTER 2
The change in my mother happened so quickly it frightened me.
One moment, Selina had been blocking the doorway and defending every cruel decision she had made.
The next, she was touching my arm.
“A million dollars?”
Her voice had softened.
Godfrey stepped closer.
“Canadian dollars?”
I almost laughed.
Phedra was barely standing beside me, yet suddenly all they could see was my phone.
“It doesn’t matter,” I said.
“Of course it matters,” Godfrey replied.
Selina shot him a warning look.
Then she turned back to me with a smile I remembered from childhood.
The smile she used whenever she wanted something.
“Damian, honey, you’ve had an emotional shock. Sit down. Let me make coffee.”
“No.”
“Your wife needs rest.”
“She needs a hospital.”
Phedra tightened her fingers around mine.
Selina’s smile disappeared.
“We can take her tomorrow.”
“I’m taking her now.”
I picked up my suitcase with one hand and supported Phedra with the other.
Godfrey moved toward us.
“Don’t be dramatic.”
I stopped.
“Move.”
Something in my voice finally reached him.
He stepped aside.
Outside, I helped Phedra into the taxi I had originally planned to use only from the airport.
She leaned against the seat.
Her breathing was shallow.
I gave the driver the name of the largest hospital in the city.
Then I looked back.
Selina and Godfrey stood beside the new SUV watching us leave.
Neither waved.
During the drive, Phedra apologized.
“I’m sorry.”
I turned toward her.
“For what?”
“You came home expecting something happy.”
I stared at her.
“You think you ruined my homecoming?”
Tears filled her eyes.
“I should have told you.”
I reached for her hand.
“You tried.”
She looked away.
“I stopped trying.”
That hurt.
Not because I blamed her.
Because I understood what kind of fear makes someone stop asking for help.
At the emergency department, everything moved faster once the nurse saw Phedra.
Her blood pressure was dangerously low.
She was dehydrated.
Her hemoglobin level made the doctor frown.
They put her on fluids before I finished answering the admission questions.
A nurse asked when she had last eaten a proper meal.
Phedra hesitated.
“Yesterday morning.”
“What did you have?”
“Tea.”
The nurse looked at me.
I felt shame burn through my chest even though I had been thousands of miles away.
“And before that?”
“Rice.”
“With meat? Vegetables?”
Phedra shook her head.
The nurse stopped writing.
“When was your last cancer treatment?”
Phedra whispered the date.
The nurse looked up sharply.
“That was months ago.”
“I know.”
“Why did you stop?”
Phedra glanced at me.
I answered.
“Because the people controlling our household money refused to pay.”
The nurse’s expression changed.
Not pity.
Concern.
The kind that became official.
Within an hour, a hospital social worker named Mara was sitting beside Phedra’s bed.
Mara spoke gently.
“Do you feel safe returning home?”
Phedra’s entire body went rigid.
“No.”
The answer came so quietly I almost missed it.
Mara did not.
“Has anyone physically hurt you?”
Phedra looked at me.
I wanted to answer for her.
I didn’t.
This was her story.
“Yes.”
My hands curled into fists.
Mara continued carefully.
“Who?”
“My brother-in-law shoved me twice.”
My heart stopped.
“Godfrey?”
Phedra nodded.
“Your mother grabbed me sometimes. She slapped me once.”
I stood so fast the chair scraped the floor.
“Damian.”
Phedra reached for me.
I forced myself to sit.
Mara kept her tone calm.
“Were you prevented from getting medical care?”
“Yes.”
“Prevented from eating?”
Phedra hesitated.
“Sometimes.”
My stomach twisted.
“They said food was expensive.”
Mara wrote everything down.
Then she asked about the shed.
Phedra explained that six months earlier, Selina had decided her coughing and vomiting disturbed everyone at night.
Godfrey moved her mattress into the storage building.
There was no proper bathroom.
No air-conditioning.
When it rained hard, water entered through one corner.
I stared at the white hospital wall because I could not look at my wife while hearing this.
Four years.
Every scar on my arms suddenly felt meaningless.
I had told myself suffering in Calgary was love.
But love without attention had left Phedra alone.
The oncologist arrived late that evening.
Dr. Mensah was a serious woman with kind eyes.
She reviewed Phedra’s old records and ordered new scans.
“We need to know whether the disease progressed during the interruption.”
My throat tightened.
“Can you treat her?”
“We intend to.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
She looked directly at me.
“I know.”
Phedra reached for my hand.
Dr. Mensah continued.
“There are reasons to be concerned, but concern is not the same as hopelessness.”
I held onto those words.
Not hopeless.
They admitted Phedra overnight.
I stayed beside her.
Around midnight, she finally slept.
That was when my phone started buzzing.
Godfrey.
I ignored him.
Selina.
Ignored.
Godfrey again.
Then a message appeared.
We need to discuss the settlement before you make any emotional decisions.
I stared at it.
Another arrived.
Mom has managed your money for years. You shouldn’t suddenly change everything because Phedra manipulated you.
I opened my banking application.
For years, most of my wages had gone from my Canadian account directly to Selina.
I began downloading statements.
Transfer after transfer.
Month after month.
Then I called my bank.
I changed passwords.
I canceled automatic transfers.
I removed every old recovery email.
After that, I called the number that had tried seventeen times to reach me.
A man answered despite the hour.
“Damian?”
“Yes.”
“This is Martin Hale from Chen & Hale. We’ve been trying to contact you regarding the settlement paperwork.”
“I know.”
“Are you all right?”
I looked at Phedra sleeping beside me.
“No.”
There was silence.
Then I asked the question that mattered.
“The million dollars. Has anything been transferred yet?”
“No. The funds remain in trust pending final authorization.”
“When can anyone access them?”
“Only after you provide verified instructions.”
I closed my eyes.
“Good.”
“Is there a problem?”
“I think somebody may try to steal it.”
Martin’s voice changed immediately.
“Tell me everything.”
So I did.
Not every emotional detail.
Just facts.
Four years of transfers.
A sick wife.
A mother controlling the account.
A brother suddenly owning a business.
The missing medical treatment.
The mention of one million dollars.
When I finished, Martin was silent for several seconds.
“Do not send anyone your settlement documents.”
“I won’t.”
“Do not sign anything your family gives you.”
“I won’t.”
“And Damian?”
“Yes?”
“Forward me any communication they send about the money.”
I stared at Godfrey’s messages.
“I already have something.”
After the call, Phedra stirred.
“You’re still awake?”
“I’m here.”
She looked frightened.
“Are they angry?”
“Yes.”
“Be careful.”
I leaned closer.
“Phedra, did they ever use my documents?”
She didn’t answer immediately.
Then she whispered something that made every hair on my arms rise.
“Selina went through the box where you kept your old papers.”
“When?”
“A few months ago.”
“What papers?”
“Copies of your passport. Old bank letters. Your tax documents.”
I felt cold.
“Why?”
“She said Godfrey needed them.”
“For what?”
“She wouldn’t tell me.”
My phone buzzed again.
This time, the message was from Selina.
Come home tomorrow. We need to organize everything before that million dollars arrives.
I read it twice.
Then I looked at my sleeping wife.
Nine days.
That was how long Selina believed she had before my settlement appeared.
May you like
Nine days to decide what she wanted from me.
And nine days for me to discover exactly how much my family had already stolen.
