“Then listen to what you are going to receive.”
I drew a breath that hurt all the way down.
“Nothing.”
My mother’s voice sharpened.
“What?”
“No daughter distributing programs, no smiling family photograph, and no more opportunities to humiliate my husband.”
“You’ll regret this.”
“I’ve spent twenty-nine years regretting what I did to make you happy.”
I looked at Leo’s small hand, lying motionless against the white hospital sheet.
“I’m finished regretting what I do to protect my child.”
Then I ended the call.
For a moment, neither David nor I moved.
The room seemed to grow smaller around us.
I could hear Leo’s breathing, the hiss of oxygen, and footsteps moving urgently through the corridor.
Finally, I turned toward my husband.
“Twenty-two billion dollars?”
He lowered his eyes.
“Yes.”
“Five continents?”
“Yes.”
“And you thought I didn’t deserve to know any of this?”
