Chapter 1

At the hospital, I found our emergency fund empty while my husband toasted Christmas in a five-star suite with his sweetheart and her dog.

The photo showed her in lingerie, straddling my husband over a game of strip poker.

The doctor shook his head, declaring the patient deceased.

I stormed home to confront my husband, only to find him too wasted to stand, waving me off like a bothersome fly.

My son rushed out, yelling, "Mom, stop picking fights! What's the big deal if Dad spends a little on Felicity. She's just his best friend!"

"Besides, it was Grandma who was sick! You should've paid! Why'd you even touch our savings?"

My husband smirked at me. "I really can't believe your mom died over a bit of money."

A cold, bitter laugh escaped me.

It wasn't my mom.

It was his!

I pushed the door open at 3 AM.

Daniel was passed out on the couch. The stench of stale booze and perfume made my head spin.

I walked over, the bank card digging into my palm.

"Where's the money?"

He stirred, voice thick with sleep and annoyance. "What's your problem? I just got off an overtime shift. I'm exhausted. Can't you just chill?"

I shoved the card in his face. "Two hundred thousand. Gone. Where is it, Daniel?"

His eyes darted away. "I don't know, maybe-"

I didn't wait. I opened my phone, pulled up Felicity's Instagram, and thrust the screen under his nose.

That photo was perfectly framed.

There was Felicity, in a sequined bra, radiant as she clung to Daniel, gripping his tie.

And there was Daniel, smiling, his hand tugging playfully at her bra strap.

That relaxed, contented smile-I hadn't seen it in years.

In the corner, their Pomeranian, Snowball, perched before a pet cake studded with candles, its neck ringed by a sparkling gold collar.

The caption read: "Thank you to my incredible Daniel for Snowball's Christmas! Gold collar with his name, lifetime insurance-all set. Love my perfect 'best friend'!"

I stood there, arm outstretched, frozen.

"It's just... some money," he finally muttered.

"Snowball is family to her. She wanted to give him a perfect Christmas. What's the crime in helping a friend? The venue, the photographer, the custom collar-twenty grand. A dog deserves love, doesn't it? I got him lifetime insurance too. Fifty thousand. The rest...we celebrated. It's called networking. You wouldn't understand."

I heard myself laugh-a short, sharp sound.

"What's wrong?"

"Why are you like this? Felicity isn't a stranger. We have history. And if your mother died over money...that was her choice. Not my problem." He turned his head away, dismissive.

My son rubbed his eyes and walked out. "Dad's right. If she died, it's because you didn't make enough. We shouldn't have touched the savings. What's wrong with helping a dog? Snowball's a living thing. Aunt Felicity is nice to Dad, so he's nice back. What's wrong with that?"

I whipped around to stare at the child I'd raised for fifteen years.

He said it calmly, as if stating a simple fact.

Just hours ago, the E.R. doctor's words still rang in my ears. "Ms. Clara? Your mother-in-law has had a massive stroke. She needs surgery now."

I clutched the bank card and rushed to the hospital, only to see two words flash on the terminal: "INSUFFICIENT FUNDS."

My mother-in-law, Eleanor, had a pension of over ten thousand a month. She scrimped and saved, handing every spare cent to Daniel, or to her grandson.

I watched his face cycle through self-righteousness, to irritation, and finally settle into a mask of cold blame-and beneath it, a flicker of relief.

Even in the subtle curl of his lip, I caught it: that familiar, ghost of a smile.

I'd seen it before. Every time my own mother was unwell, he'd perform concern, but that same fleeting, lighthearted look would surface.

He'd always boasted about his mother being tough, brushing off her high blood pressure, her hidden snacks of fatty meat and strong tea.

Now, his "tough" mother had collapsed. And he still thought it was my mother.

I nodded, pressing my lip into a thin line.

"You're right," I said, my voice eerily calm. "That's fate. Nothing to regret."

"But the dead still need burying. What's the plan for the funeral?"

His face twisted with instant irritation. "She's your mother! Why should I care? You handle it. I have no money and no time for this!"

"Alright." I didn't look at him again. I simply turned and walked towards the bedroom.