"We need to operate, Katelyn. Today."
Dr. Evans tapped his pen against the metal clipboard. The harsh fluorescent lights of the ICU made his tired face look even older.
"He was fine yesterday," I said.
"Leukemia doesn't wait," he replied, keeping his voice low. "His white blood cell count spiked overnight. If we don't do the transplant now, his organs will fail."
I looked through the glass window at my ten-year-old brother. Tubes snaked out of Leo’s frail arms.
"How much?" I asked.
"Seventy thousand for the initial surgical fees, upfront."
"I'll get it."
"You have forty-eight hours, Katelyn. After that, his body won't handle the anesthesia."
I walked out of the hospital and dialed Bill's number. He answered on the second ring.
"Meet me at the corner diner," I said. "Now."
Ten minutes later, Bill rushed through the glass doors. He wore the same faded flannel from last night. A smudge of black grease stained his left cheek. He played the part of the struggling mechanic flawlessly.
"Hey, baby." He reached for my waist.
I stepped back. "Leo needs surgery. Today."
"Oh god." Bill's voice dipped into perfect, practiced concern. "Is he okay? What did the doctor say?"
"He’s dying, Bill. I need the money we saved. The joint account."
Bill rubbed the back of his neck. He looked down at the scuffed linoleum floor.
"Katelyn, I... I had to pay rent."
"You paid rent with all of it?"
"My car broke down again. The transmission blew. I had to fix it so I can keep working."
I stared at his perfectly styled hair. The expensive haircut hid right above his thrift-store collar.
"You used the emergency fund," I said.
"I'm so sorry. I really am." He grabbed my hands. "Just give me a few days, I'll figure something out. I'll ask my boss for an advance."
"You gave everything you had?" I asked.
"Every last dime, baby. You know I'd do anything for Leo."
I didn't scream. I didn't slap him. I just looked at the man who was laughing about my dying brother twelve hours ago.
"Fine," I said.
I pulled my hands free from his grip.
"What do you mean, fine?" Bill asked, blinking in confusion.
"I'll figure it out myself."
I turned and walked toward the exit.
"Wait, Kate! Where are you going?"
"To work."
I didn't wait for his reply. I pushed through the diner doors and hit the pavement.
The next three days blurred into a marathon of caffeine and sweat. I scrubbed floors at an office building at dawn. I changed tires at Russo's Auto Shop until my knuckles bled. I hauled trays at The Velvet Room until my spine burned.
I dodged Bill's calls. I ignored his texts.
He caught me outside the auto shop on Friday afternoon.
"You're avoiding me," Bill said.
He stepped in front of my path, blocking the sidewalk. He held two paper cups of cheap coffee.
"I'm working," I replied, not breaking stride.
He dropped the coffees in a trash can and grabbed my elbow.
"Stop. Please."
I ripped my arm away.
"Don't touch me."
He blinked, his mouth dropping open. "Kate, what is wrong with you? I'm trying to help."
"Are you?"
"Yes! Let me come to the hospital with you tonight. We can talk to the doctors together. We can set up a payment plan."
He reached for my hand again.
I shoved his fingers aside.
"No need," I said. "I'm responsible for my brother's life."
"I'm your boyfriend. We're in this together."
"I said no."
Bill's jaw tightened. He studied my face, his eyes narrowing as he searched for a crack in my armor.
"You're just stressed," he said, his tone shifting from pleading to patronizing. "The medical bills are making you crazy. You aren't thinking straight."
"I have to go."
"Kate, don't walk away from me."
I walked past him. He didn't follow.
Midnight arrived with a freezing rain. The cold wind bit through my thin jacket as I left my third shift at the club.
My phone buzzed in my pocket.
I pulled it out and wiped a raindrop from the cracked screen.
*Mercy General Billing: Payment of $70,000 is 48 hours past due. Surgery scheduled for Monday will be canceled.*
I squeezed the phone until the plastic case groaned.
Loud laughter drifted from the corner of the street.
I ducked behind a brick pillar.
Across the avenue, outside an upscale steakhouse, stood Bill.
He wasn't wearing flannel.
A sleek, midnight-blue Aston Martin idled at the curb. A valet in a red vest held the driver's door open.
Bill slipped a crisp hundred-dollar bill into the valet's hand. He wore a tailored navy suit that cost more than my brother's entire surgery.
Lexi, the brunette from the club, slid into the passenger seat. She wore a white fur coat and diamonds that caught the streetlights.
"Hurry up, Billy," she called out. "The reservation at the penthouse is for one."
"Keep your dress on, Lexi," Bill laughed.
It was a loud, careless sound that echoed off the concrete buildings. He climbed into the driver's seat. The engine roared, a deep, guttural purr, and the car shot down the avenue. It disappeared into the city lights, leaving nothing but exhaust in the freezing air.
I stood in the shadows. The hospital bill glowed on my screen.
He played his part perfectly. He kept me desperate. He watched me bleed for pennies while he tipped valets with hundreds.
I pocketed my phone.
I wasn't going to wait for him to end the game.
I was going to rewrite the rules. I was going to take everything he had, drain his trust fund, and ruin his life.
I just needed an invitation into his real world. And I knew exactly who to steal it from.
