Chapter 2

The pressure in the room was suffocating. Everyone was staring at me, their faces a mix of shock and disgust.

"You want the money?" I said, my voice cutting through the murmurs. "Fine. But I' m taking this briefcase to the bank first. I' ll lend it to you after I deposit the cash and confirm it' s real."

Ethan' s face went pale. "Confirm it' s real? What are you talking about? My mother is on the floor!"

"A paramedic is on the way," I said flatly. "They can assess her. But your money, Ethan, that' s something I need to assess myself."

My own father, his face etched with worry for Mrs. Lester, stood up and walked towards me. He knew all too well the terror of a heart condition.

"Gabby, honey," he said softly, placing a hand on my shoulder. "Maybe... maybe just give him the money. It' s a life. We can figure out the rest later."

His empathy was a weapon they had used against us before. It led to his death in my past life.

I turned to him, my expression unyielding. "Dad, stop. Do not get involved in this. Sit down."

The harshness in my tone shocked him into silence. He looked at me like he didn' t recognize his own daughter.

Ethan saw his opening. He pointed a shaking finger at me, his voice dripping with righteous anger for the live stream audience.

"See? See how she talks to her own father? And she has the money! I know you just got that $50,000 overtime bonus from the department, Gabrielle! You can afford this!"

The comments on my phone went wild.

"OMG she has the money and won' t help???"

"She' s a gold digger! Waited for him to show the cash and now she' s holding it hostage!"

"Heartless bitch."

I laughed, a cold, empty sound. "You' re right, I do have that bonus. And it' s my money. For my father' s medical bills. Not for your family' s theater production."

I snatched the briefcase from the gift table. The weight felt familiar, a cheap imitation of real cash.

"I' m going to the credit union. It' s just down the street."

I started walking towards the exit, the live stream still running.

The crowd parted for me, their glares burning into my back. This was the part I dreaded, the public humiliation. But it was a small price to pay to avoid repeating the past.