Elara asked the driver to take her to the hospital instead of home.
She needed to see her mother. Show her the hair. The nails. Pretend for just a few minutes that everything was normal and good and not built on a contract that would explode the moment anyone looked too closely.
The hospital hallway smelled like disinfectant and something else she could never quite name. She walked to her mother’s room, knocked once, and pushed the door open.
Her mother was sitting up in bed, reading a magazine. She looked up when Elara entered, and her entire face lit up.
“Oh my God, baby. Look at you!”
Elara smiled. “You like it?”
“Like it? You look stunning. Your hair. And your nails.” Her mother reached out, taking Elara’s hand to examine the fresh manicure. “When did you do all this?”
“This afternoon. Just felt like treating myself.”
“You deserve it. You work so hard.” Her mother squeezed her hand. “You look so beautiful, Elara. Like a completely different person.”
“I feel different.”
And she did. Lighter somehow. Like the woman in the salon mirror had shed some weight Elara had been carrying for
years.
They talked for a few minutes. Small things. The food in the hospital. A nurse who’d been particularly kind. Her mother’s medication schedule.
Then the door opened.
Luca walked in holding his empty hands. “I couldn’t find the juice you wanted. They were out.”
Elara’s entire body went rígid.
“What are you doing here?”
Luca stopped when he saw her. His eyes traveled from her hair down to her shoes. Slow. Assessing. The way men looked at women when they were calculating worth.
“Well, well. Look at you.” He stepped closer. “Who are you fucking now?”
“Lucal” Her mother’s voice was sharp.
“I’m serious.” He circled Elara like she was something he was considering buying. “You look different. Expensive. So who’s sponsoring you? Which man is it this time?”
Elara tried to move past him toward the door. “I’m leaving.”
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His hand shot out, gripping her arm. Hard. “Answer the question.”
“Let go of me.”
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“Not until you tell me where you got the money for all this.” His fingers dug into her skin. “New hair. New nails. You’re walking around looking like someone’s mistress. Who is he?”
“Luca, let her go!” Her mother was trying to get out of bed, the IV line pulling tight.
“She threw me out of her apartment,” Luca said, his voice rising. “Your daughter. She threatened me with a knife. Did she tell you that?”
Her mother froze. “Elara? Is that true?”
“He stole from me.” Elara yanked her arm free. “He broke into my apartment and stole three thousand dollars. Money I’d saved for your treatment.”
The room went silent.
Her mother’s face drained of color. “He what?”
“I saved for a year. Every cent. And he took it.” Elara’s voice was shaking now. “So yes, I told him to leave. And yes, I would
have used the knife if he didn’t.”
Her mother looked at Luca. “You stole her savings?”
“It was an emergency.”
“An emergency?” Elara laughed. Bitter. Sharp. “Gambling debts aren’t emergencies. They’re choices.”
Her mother’s hand went to her chest. “So there’s no money? For the chemo?”
“No, Mama. Don’t worry.” Elara moved closer to the bed, kneeling beside it. “I already paid half. I’ll get a loan for the rest. You’re going to be fine.”
“A loan?” Her mother’s eyes filled with tears. “Baby, no. You can’t take on more debt for me.”
“It’s done. I already arranged it.” The lie came easily now. Too easily. “The treatment starts next week.”
Luca grabbed her shoulder, spinning her around. “Where did you get the money? Tell me right now.”
“None of your business.”
“Which man are you sleeping with?”
A nurse pushed the door open, clipboard in hand. She took one look at the scene and her expression hardened. “Is there a problem here?”
Luca dropped his hand immediately. Stepped back. Put on his best concerned–father face. “No problem. Just talking to my daughter.”
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Chapter 13
The nurse looked at Elara. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
2 55 vouchers
“Visiting hours end in ten minutes.”
“We were just leaving.” Luca smiled at the nurse. Sweet. Charming. The mask he wore for everyone who wasn’t family.
The nurse left.
Elara’s mother was crying now. Quiet tears that she wiped away with the back of her hand. “He’s still your father, Elara. You can’t just throw him out like that.”
“Mama-”
“Let him come back home. Please. He made a mistake, but he’s trying.”
Elara looked at her mother. At the woman who’d given her everything. Who’d worked two jobs to keep food on the table. Who’d never once complained about the husband who kept breaking her heart.
“I’ll think about it,” she lied.
Her mother’s face relaxed slightly. “Thank you, baby.”
Elara reached into her bag and pulled out the small container she’d bought on the way. Expensive pastries from her mother’s favorite bakery. The kind they used to get on special occasions before money got tight.
“I brought you something.”
Her mother opened the container. Her eyes widened. “Elara, these are so expensive. We should save this money for the
treatment.”
“It’s already bought. Just eat them. Please.”
Her mother took a small bite. Closed her eyes. “Oh, these are good.”
Elara watched her eat and felt something crack in her chest.
One million dollars sat in her bank account. Enough to cover the treatment ten times over. Enough to move her mother to a better hospital. Enough to make sure she never had to choose between medicine and food again.
But she couldn’t tell her. Couldn’t explain where the money came from without revealing the contract. The marriage. The
lie
She stood. “I should go. I have work early tomorrow.”
“On a Friday?”
“Big meeting. Can’t miss it.”
Another lie. She was getting good at those.
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The nurse looked at Elara. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
Visiting hours end in ten minutes.”
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#55 vouchers
“We were just leaving.” Luca smiled at the nurse. Sweet. Charming. The mask he wore for everyone who wasn’t family.
The nurse left.
Elara’s mother was crying now. Quiet tears that she wiped away with the back of her hand. “He’s still your father, Elara. You can’t just throw him out like that.”
“Mama-”
“Let him come back home. Please. He made a mistake, but he’s trying.”
Elara looked at her mother. At the woman who’d given her everything. Who’d worked two jobs to keep food on the table. Who’d never once complained about the husband who kept breaking her heart.
“I’ll think about it,” she lied.
Her mother’s face relaxed slightly. “Thank you, baby.”
Elara reached into her bag and pulled out the small container she’d bought on the way. Expensive pastries from her
mother’s favorite bakery. The kind they used to get on special occasions before money got tight.
“I brought you something.”
Her mother opened the container. Her eyes widened. “Elara, these are so expensive. We should save this money for the
treatment.”
“It’s already bought. Just eat them. Please.”
Her mother took a small bite. Closed her eyes. “Oh, these are good.”
Elara watched her eat and felt something crack in her chest.
One million dollars sat in her bank account. Enough to cover the treatment ten times over. Enough to move her mother to a better hospital. Enough to make sure she never had to choose between medicine and food again.
But she couldn’t tell her. Couldn’t explain where the money came from without revealing the contract. The marriage. The
lie.
She stood. “I should go. I have work early tomorrow.”
“On a Friday?
“Big meeting. Can’t miss it.”
Another lie. She was getting good at those.
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Chapte
Her mother smiled. “Okay, baby. Be safe going home.”
Elara kissed her forehead. Avoided looking at Luca on her way out.
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The driver was waiting in the parking lot. He opened the door without a word, and Elara climbed in.
She gave him her address and leaned back against the leather seat.
Her arm hurt where Luca had grabbed her. She pulled up her sleeve. Red marks. They’d bruise by tomorrow.
The car pulled up to her building twenty minutes later. Elara thanked the driver and climbed the stairs to her floor.
It was almost 9 PM. The hallway was quiet. Most of her neighbors were already inside, settled in for the night.
She unlocked her door and stepped inside.
The apartment felt different now. Smaller. Like she’d outgrown it in the span of a few hours.
Tomorrow she’d pack. Move her things to Marcus’s penthouse. Leave this place behind.
Her phone buzzed.
**Dante:** *Car picks you up at 10 AM sharp for wardrobe consultation. Don’t be late.*
Elara typed back a quick confirmation and set her phone on the counter.
She made tea. Sat on her couch. Stared at the wall and tried not to think about Luca’s hands on her arm or her mother’s
tears or the weight of all the lies she was carrying.
At 9:47 PM, her doorbell rang.
Elara froze.
No one rang her doorbell this late. Not even Luca had a key anymore.
She approached the door slowly. Checked the peephole.
No one there.
She opened the door carefully.
A box sat on her doormat. Large. Wrapped in expensive–looking paper with a cream ribbon tied around it.
No card. No name.
Just the box.
Etara picked it up and brought it inside, closing the door behind her.
She set it on her coffee table and stared at it.
What the hell was this?
