"Today, if you don't apologize to Scarlett, you can stand right here and watch your mother die in front of your eyes!"
I stared at Alfred, unable to believe what I was hearing.
Ten days ago, Alfred had been the man who loved me most,
the son-in-law who'd lost his parents young and had treated my mother like his own all these years,
the one who'd stayed up night after night, tracking down specialist after specialist overseas to settle on my mother's treatment plan,
who'd knelt in the private chapel day after day before her surgery, praying she'd come through it safe.
And yet now,
with my father only ten days in his grave,
he was throwing my mother's life away for the sake of a woman like that.
"What are you waiting for! Apologize!"
Alfred's roar cut through my thoughts.
"Alfred, why should I?! What have I done wrong?!"
"I made sure my mother's surgery went smoothly. I wouldn't let the lead surgeon walk out on her. What's wrong with that?!"
Something I couldn't read flickered in his eyes.
But before he could speak,
"Let it go, Alfred…"
Scarlett stepped forward and slipped her arm through his,
"Just send Shelagh's mother back to her room. I'm really scared. I'm careful every single day, but I still keep making Shelagh angry. If something really happens to her mother, I'm afraid I won't be able to keep my own life…"
In an instant the look in his eyes melted into tenderness,
he pulled Scarlett into his arms, his voice so gentle it could have dripped,
"Don't be afraid, Scarlett. Today I'll get justice for you, no matter what."
With that, he turned a cold gaze on my mother in the hospital bed and spoke each word slowly,
"Press that blanket down over the old woman's head!"
"Let's see just how long you can keep up this tough act, you devoted daughter!"
The moment the words left his mouth, Dr. Finch's expression changed.
He grabbed the hands reaching to lay the blanket over my mother's head and looked at Alfred, his face grave,
"Mr. Delgado, the old lady just came out of surgery. She's extremely weak. If you keep this up, someone is going to die."
Alfred raised a hand to cut him off,
"The heart transplant specialist from overseas is standing by in the operating room right now. Nothing's going to go wrong. Keep your mouth shut!"
Hearing that,
Dr. Finch had nothing more he could say.
Slowly he let go of the hands he'd been holding back.
The instant he released them,
the man at the bedside folded the blanket into three layers and slammed it down over my mother's head.
In a flash, a frantic, muffled whimpering came from beneath the blanket,
my mother's legs and arms thrashing violently without stop,
her palms, already rubbed raw, clawing at the white sheets and leaving streak after streak of horrifying blood.
I came completely apart and threw myself at her bed like a madwoman,
Alfred wrenched me off and growled low through clenched teeth,
"Shelagh. Apologize."
My mother's struggling grew weaker and weaker,
I slid helplessly to the floor, looked up at Scarlett, and forced the words out through gritted teeth,
"I'm sorry."
Scarlett cupped her faintly swollen belly, tears spilling down all at once,
she shrank back into Alfred's arms and spoke in a small, wronged voice,
"Alfred, that apology didn't sound the least bit sincere to me."
Alfred's cold eyes swung to me,
"You hear that? Scarlett says it wasn't sincere. On your knees and do it again!"
Her sharp nails had long since torn open my palms,
I gripped my mother's icy hand, clenched my teeth, and knelt in front of Scarlett,
"I'm sorry."
The words had barely left me, and just as Alfred was about to speak,
a tearful little whimper came from behind me,
"Alfred, I still don't think it's sincere enough…"
Alfred went still, then gently gathered Scarlett into his arms,
