CHAPTER 5
Phedra’s biopsy took less than an hour.
Waiting for the result felt longer than the four years I had spent in Calgary.
Dr. Mensah warned us pathology would take time, but she already had enough information to begin planning.
“We’ll need to stabilize her first,” she said.
Phedra looked at her hands.
“And after that?”
“Treatment.”
The word frightened her.
I saw it.
“Chemotherapy again?” she asked.
“Likely, followed by surgery depending on response.”
Phedra closed her eyes.
Dr. Mensah leaned closer.
“You had treatment interrupted. That makes this harder.”
My chest tightened.
“But harder does not mean impossible.”
Phedra opened her eyes.
“What are my chances?”
The doctor did not give us a comforting number.
I respected her for that.
Instead, she explained what they knew, what they didn’t know, and what they could still do.
When she finished, Phedra whispered, “I want to fight.”
I squeezed her hand.
“So do I.”
Dr. Mensah looked at me.
“This has to be her fight.”
I understood.
For days, I had been telling myself I would save Phedra.
But cancer did not care about my anger.
And Phedra did not need another person controlling her life.
She needed choices.
“I’ll follow her lead,” I said.
Phedra looked at me gratefully.
Later that morning, Mara returned.
This time, Phedra told her everything.
The shove.
The slap.
The withheld food.
The letters Selina hid.
The threats.
The shed.
She even admitted Selina once removed cash from Phedra’s purse after she received money from a friend.
Mara documented it.
Then she helped Phedra request that Selina and Godfrey be placed on the hospital’s restricted visitor list.
Phedra stared at the form.
“Will they know I did this?”
“If they attempt to visit.”
Her hand trembled.
I touched her shoulder.
“You don’t have to decide today.”
“Yes, I do.”
She signed.
The first person to test that boundary was Selina.
She arrived two hours later carrying flowers.
Hospital security stopped her downstairs.
My phone rang.
I answered.
“What?”
“You told them I’m banned?”
Phedra heard the shouting through the phone.
Her face went pale.
I stood and moved into the hallway.
“Phedra requested it.”
“She would never do that.”
“She did.”
“You made her.”
“No.”
Selina laughed bitterly.
“I raised you better than this.”
“I wish that were true.”
She became quiet.
Then her voice cracked.
“Damian, I’m your mother.”
“I know.”
“I came with flowers.”
“My wife needed medicine.”
“That’s not fair.”
I looked through the glass at Phedra.
“Fair?”
“I made decisions with the information I had.”
“You had her oncology letters.”
“No.”
“I found them.”
Silence.
“You had my money.”
“We used it for the family.”
“She was family.”
“She is your wife.”
Selina said the words as though they answered everything.
“She is my family too.”
That time, Selina had no response.
Security escorted her out.
Phedra cried afterward.
Not because she wanted Selina back.
Because boundaries can hurt even when they are necessary.
“I feel cruel,” she whispered.
“You asked not to see someone who hurt you.”
“She’s still your mother.”
“And you’re still my wife.”
Phedra looked down.
“I don’t want you to lose your family because of me.”
I sat beside her.
“I’m not losing them because of you.”
I took her hand.
“I’m seeing them clearly because of what they did.”
That afternoon, my aunt Bernice called.
Then a cousin.
Then another relative.
By evening, Selina’s version of the story had traveled through the entire family.
According to her, Phedra had manipulated me the moment I came home.
I was threatening to steal my mother’s house.
Godfrey’s business was somehow at risk.
Selina had “sacrificed everything” to care for my sick wife.
I ignored most calls.
Then Aunt Bernice sent a voice message.
Damian, I don’t know what is true, but before you believe everything Phedra says, remember your mother took care of that woman for almost a year.
I played it twice.
Phedra stared at the blanket.
“She told everyone that?”
“Yes.”
“People will believe her.”
“Some will.”
Phedra’s face tightened with humiliation.
I wanted to call every relative and destroy Selina’s story.
Naomi stopped me.
“Evidence first,” she said when I phoned her.
“She’s ruining Phedra’s name.”
“Then let her talk.”
“How does that help?”
“People become careless when they believe they control the narrative.”
I hated legal patience.
But I listened.
At noon the next day, I entered Riverside Café.
Godfrey was already there.
Selina sat beside him.
On the table was a leather folder.
No apology flowers this time.
No tears.
Business.
Godfrey smiled.
“Brother.”
I sat opposite him.
“What’s this?”
He opened the folder.
Inside were architectural drawings.
A larger auto facility.
Repair bays.
A showroom.
Offices.
“Expansion.”
I flipped through the pages.
“How much?”
“Four hundred thousand.”
I looked up.
Godfrey leaned forward eagerly.
“There’s a commercial property available near the highway. Perfect location. If we move now, we can dominate the district.”
“We?”
“You invest. I run operations.”
Selina nodded.
“It keeps the money inside the family.”
“What do I get?”
“Half.”
Godfrey smiled.
“On paper.”
I stared at him.
“What does that mean?”
He laughed.
“Taxes, Damian. You’ve been gone too long.”
Selina touched my hand.
“You worked hard for this settlement. We want to protect you.”
I almost asked who had protected Phedra.
Instead, I stayed calm.
“When do you need the money?”
“Immediately.”
“Why?”
“The owner has another buyer.”
“How immediately?”
Godfrey pushed a document toward me.
“Deposit by Friday.”
That was three days before the settlement was supposed to clear.
Interesting.
I picked up the document.
Naomi had told me not to sign.
She had not told me not to read.
The proposal was strangely detailed.
Then I reached the final pages.
There it was.
An authorization form.
It gave Godfrey permission to communicate with financial institutions on my behalf regarding investment funds.
I looked up.
“What’s this?”
“Routine.”
“Looks broad.”
Selina smiled.
“Don’t be suspicious of your own brother.”
I almost laughed.
Godfrey pushed a pen toward me.
“Sign.”
I picked it up.
Both of them watched my hand.
I tapped the pen against the paper.
Then I put it down.
“Not today.”
Godfrey’s smile vanished.
“Why?”
“My shoulder hurts.”
“What does your shoulder have to do with signing?”
“Everything.”
Selina leaned forward.
“Damian.”
I closed the folder.
“When the money clears, we’ll talk.”
Godfrey’s eyes narrowed.
“Clears?”
I realized my mistake.
Selina caught it too.
“What do you mean clears?”
I smiled.
“Banking language.”
“Isn’t the money already available?”
I stood.
“Seven days.”
Godfrey rose.
“Seven days until what?”
I looked at both of them.
“Until I decide what to do.”
Then I walked away.
Outside, Naomi was waiting in her car.
I handed her photographs I had secretly taken of every page.
She studied the authorization form.
“This isn’t routine.”
“I know.”
“It could potentially allow him to change payment instructions if accepted.”
I looked through the café window.
Godfrey was arguing with Selina.
“Can we use this?”
“Maybe.”
My phone buzzed.
A message from Martin.
Call immediately.
I did.
His first words made the air leave my lungs.
“Someone just tried to complete identity verification using your information.”
I stared at Godfrey through the glass.
“How?”
“They submitted a photograph of your passport.”
My missing passport copy.
Martin continued.
“And Damian?”
“Yes?”
“They also submitted a signature.”
My voice dropped.
“Mine?”
“They tried to make it look like yours.”
May you like
Six days remained.
And my brother had stopped asking for permission.
