Chapter 8 - The Price of Pride
The aftermath of the legal meeting left the Fosters in a precarious vacuum. Without the ability to harass me, they were forced to face the reality of the open market. Sarah, suffering from a chronic health condition that I had previously covered with premium insurance, found herself struggling with the bureaucracy of public assistance.
One evening, I received a call from an unknown number. I answered, expecting a solicitor. Instead, it was my mother. She sounded diminished, the imperious tone replaced by a wheezing, desperate fragility.
"Rebecca," she whispered. "I don’t want the house. I don’t want the money for the life we had. But I am ill. The state clinic... it’s not enough. Please. Just this once. Don't let your own mother suffer."
I sat in my London office, looking out at the skyline. I felt no rage, only a profound, hollow exhaustion. I knew that if I gave in, it would be the first step in a cycle that would eventually reclaim my entire life.
May you like
"I cannot save you from the consequences of your own choices," I said, my voice devoid of malice. "But I will do this: I am setting up a one-time medical trust. It will cover your treatment, your medication, and a modest apartment for the next two years. There is only one condition. It is a legal contract. If you or Dylan attempt to contact me, or if you attempt to speak to my colleagues, the trust is voided immediately. This is the last transaction I will ever make with you."
She began to cry, but I had already stopped listening. I signaled to my assistant to finalize the paperwork and hung up. I had bought my freedom with a final, calculated expense.
