Chapter 2Three Million From My Frozen Mother

That evening, I prepared a feast of all her favorites.

Roasted pork ribs, garlic bread, corn cream soup…

"Evie, honey, wash your hands. I made everything you like..."

Before I could even finish, she violently slapped my hand away.

"Are you trying to ruin my body with this garbage? As if you didn't humiliate me enough today!"

She grabbed the plate of pork belly and dumped it straight into the trash can.

Then the ribs, then the fish... plate after plate, gone.

"What are you doing?!"

I couldn't hold it back anymore. My voice shook with exhaustion.

"What does it look like? I'm throwing out the trash!"

With a bitter sneer, she pulled a document from her bag and flung it directly at my face.

"Look at it. The acceptance letter from the Royal Ballet Academy. Happy now?"

My hands shook as I smoothed out the paper.

"You got in? Evie, you actually got in!"

"What is there to be happy about? Look at the tuition!"

She pointed a trembling finger at the exorbitant figures listed at the bottom, her voice rising to a scream.

"Fifty thousand dollars! Where are you going to get fifty thousand dollars?!"

"Do you think I'm like Chelsea? Her mom can write a check with a single phone call!"

"And what about you?"

"What can you do besides make a fool out of me?!"

My head felt like it was splitting in two.

I leaned heavily against the dining table, barely able to keep my balance.

"Evie, listen to me. Your mom..."

I wanted to tell her. I wanted to say I was sick—terribly, desperately sick.

"All you ever do is cry! All you ever do is play the victim!"

She cut me off, her eyes dripping with pure contempt.

"If you couldn't afford to raise me, why did you even have me? Why don't you just die?"

"Why don't you sell your life to get me the money?!"

Sell your life to get me the money.

Those words were like a key turning in a lock, releasing the final chain in my heart.

She slammed her bedroom door shut, leaving me standing alone in the ruins of the dinner I had spent hours preparing.

A sudden wave of warmth rushed up my throat. I covered my mouth, coughing violently.

When I pulled my hand away, my palm was smeared with bright, crimson blood.

I stared at the blood, then looked toward my bedroom where the terminal brain tumor diagnosis lay in a drawer. A strange, quiet smile crept onto my face.

Of course. Why hadn't I thought of it before?

My life could buy her future.

Evelyn’s father had walked out before she was even born; I had never been able to give her a proper family or a comfortable life.

But now, I could give her this one final gift.

I walked over to the old chest of drawers, unlocked the bottom panel, and pulled out the accidental death insurance policy alongside my organ donor registry form.

On the policy, the sole beneficiary was listed in clear print: Evelyn Davies.

I didn't sleep at all that night. I gathered every single dollar of cash I had hidden around the house.

Bill by bill, I smoothed them out and stuffed them deep into her old, torn ballet slippers.

She always called those shoes her ultimate shame.

But I knew they were where her dream began. She would never throw them away.

The next morning, Evelyn dragged her suitcase toward the door, ignoring me entirely.

"I'm leaving. I'm staying at Chelsea’s place for a few days."

"Her house has a private dance studio. It's infinitely better than this dump."

I held a warm bowl of oatmeal, my hands trembling.

"Evie, don't go. Eat some breakfast first."

"I'm not eating that. Just looking at your cooking makes me sick."

She wrinkled her nose in disgust.

"And don't you dare show up at my school again. If you embarrass me one more time, I swear I will never call you my mother again!"

The front door slammed shut.

I slowly finished the bowl of oatmeal by myself, then walked out into the cold morning toward the fish market.

"Lou... could you... is there any way I could get a three-month advance on my pay?"

I kept my head down, unable to meet her gaze.

"An advance? Are you out of your mind, Helen?"

Lou shoved my shoulder roughly.

"You've been getting slower and slower lately. I was actually thinking of cutting your hours!"

The shove sent me stumbling back, nearly losing my footing.

Right then, a cold, horribly familiar voice cut through the noise of the market.

"Mom? What the hell are you doing here?"

"Do you have no shame at all?!"

I spun around. Evelyn and Chelsea were standing just a few feet away.

Chelsea had a smug, mocking smirk plastered across her face.

"Oh, wow. If my mom hadn't insisted we get fresh king crab for the party tonight, we would have missed this little performance."

Evelyn’s face burned a dark, furious red as she marched over.

"Are you trying to make sure everyone knows my mother is a beggar at a fish market?"

"No, Evie, that's not it. I was just..."

I reached out, desperate to grab her hand and explain.