Chapter 2

2

Andy finally burst through the hospital doors, drenched in sweat and trembling. His eyes were wide with a raw, primal fear.

When the surgical team explained the situation, the tall, athletic man crumbled like a child, sliding into a waiting room chair.

He dug his fingernails into his palms, his tears falling silently onto the floor.

Then, he snapped. He started dialing Conrad's number like a madman, but the result was the same. No answer.

"Natalie, what do we do?" he choked out, his voice breaking. "We have to find him. She's our mother. She's all we have!"

I looked at my brother-in-law's shattered face and then at the closed doors of the ICU. I made a choice.

"Andy, stay here," I said, my voice surprisingly steady. "I need you to be here if anything changes. I'm going to find Conrad and drag him back here myself."

I started calling every one of Conrad's lowlife friends. After threatening to call the cops on one of them for an old DUI, I finally got Willow's address.

I drove like a woman possessed, weaving through Seattle traffic and ignoring every red light. My mind was a single, repeating mantra: "Bring him back. Bring him back."

When I reached the high-end condo complex, I spotted Conrad's car in the garage immediately. I took the elevator up, my heart hammering against my ribs.

I pounded on Willow's door until it swung open. Conrad stood there, draped in nothing but a white towel.

The sight of him, fresh from the shower in another woman's home while his mother was dying, made my blood boil. I wanted to burn everything down.

But I couldn't. I didn't have time for a scene.

Willow stepped into view, looking small and vulnerable. She didn't skip a beat. "Natalie, please don't get the wrong idea. Conrad just spilled something on his clothes. He's just cleaning up. There's nothing going on."

I walked right past her, grabbed Conrad's clothes from the chair, and shoved them at his chest. "Get dressed. We're going to the hospital. Your mother is dying."

Conrad didn't move. He sat down on the sofa with a look of smug exhaustion. "You've got a lot of nerve, Natalie. Tracking me down here?"

"Remember last time? When Willow was sick and you told me Mom's blood pressure was skyrocketing just to get me home? I'm not a fool. I'm not falling for it twice."

I lost it. I screamed at him, hoping to shake some sense into his thick skull.

"Conrad! This isn't a game! She is in critical condition! Are you really going to sit there and watch your own mother die?"

Conrad saw the look in my eyes, and for a split second, doubt flickered across his face.

But Willow spoke up, her voice dripping with fake concern. "Natalie, even if you're jealous, you shouldn't use her life as a bargaining chip. What if you jinx it?"

"And besides, if it were that bad, wouldn't Andy have called? Surely a son would call his brother if their mother were actually dying."

"Unless, of course, the daughter-in-law cares more than the biological son. That sounds a bit far-fetched, don't you think?"

I tightened my fists, fighting the urge to rip the hair off her head.

I needed Conrad to believe me. That was all that mattered.

"If you don't believe me, call Andy," I pleaded. "Call him right now. See if I'm lying."

Conrad hesitated, then reached for his phone and turned it on. He dialed Andy's number.

The phone rang and rang. No one picked up. It went to voicemail.

Conrad's expression shifted from doubt to cold, hard fury. He looked at me like I was something he'd found on the bottom of his shoe.

Suddenly, a sharp cry from Willow broke the tension.

Conrad spun around instantly. Willow was clutching her wrist, blood seeping through her fingers. A shattered glass lay at her feet.

He rushed to her side, pulling out a first-aid kit with more tenderness than he had ever shown me. He began bandaging her with focused, expert precision.

I tried to grab his phone from the sofa to call Andy again, but he snatched it away.

He hurled the phone against the wall with all his might. It shattered into a hundred pieces.

"Enough!" he roared. "I'm done with your acting, Natalie! I wanted to give her one nice birthday, and you're turning it into a funeral. You hate her that much?"

"If you can't handle my life, then get a divorce! Get out!"

I reached for his arm, desperate to explain, but he twisted my wrist and shoved me toward the door.

He threw me out into the hallway and slammed the door in my face. I stood there alone, the cold silence of the corridor seeping into my bones.