FIVE HUNDRED THOUSAND REASONS

LUCY

They're all waiting when I come downstairs. Kelvin on the couch, Miranda beside him with her hand on her stomach. Patricia standing like a sentinel. Diane perched on the arm of a chair, scrolling her phone.

My family. Except they never were, were they?

"Sit," Kelvin says.

There's nowhere to sit except the floor or a chair across from them, far away. I take the chair.

Kelvin leans forward, elbows on his knees. He looks tired. Annoyed. Like I'm an appointment that ran long.

"I need you to sign these." He tosses papers onto the coffee table. They slide toward me. "Divorce papers. My lawyer drew them up."

I stare at the documents.

"Lucy." He sounds impatient now. "Did you hear me?"

"Why?" The word comes out broken.

"Why what?"

"Why did you–" I can't finish. My stutter tangles everything. "We're m-married. You asked me to w-wait for–"

"Oh, for God's sake." Patricia sighs. "Do we really have to spell it out?"

"I'll spell it out," Kelvin says. He sits back, one arm draped around Miranda. Casual. Comfortable. "I married you for your father's money and his connections. That's it. I never loved you, Lucy. I needed access to capital and the right business networks. You were the key to both."

The words land like bullets.

"You're lying." My voice sounds distant. "You said–"

"I said what I needed to say to get what I wanted." He shrugs. "Nexus is worth three hundred million now. I don't need your father's money anymore. I don't need his connections. Which means I don't need you."

Miranda makes a small sound. He squeezes her shoulder, reassuring.

"So sign the papers," he continues. "I'm offering you five hundred thousand dollars. That's generous considering you contributed nothing to the company's success."

"Nothing?" The word explodes out of me. "My father gave you t-ten million–"

"Your father invested in a vision that changed the world," Kelvin says smoothly. "I'm sure he'd be proud."

"You said you n-needed—"

"Lucy." His voice goes flat. Cold. "Sign the papers. Take the money. And get out of my life."

Silence.

Miranda shifts uncomfortably. Diane smirks at her phone. Patricia watches me like I'm an insect she's about to crush.

I reach for the pen.

My hands shake so badly I can barely hold it, but I sign every page where there's an X. I don't read them. I don't care.

I just need to get to my father.

He'll know what to do. He'll fix this. He always fixes everything.

When I finish, Kelvin takes the papers, barely glances at them, passes them to Patricia.

"There," he says. "We're done."

He drops a stack of cash on the table. Bills flutter.

"Your settlement," he says. "Five hundred thousand. Take it or leave it."

I don't touch it.

Wait.

I need to survive long enough to see my father.

I grab a handful of bills from the pile. Maybe two thousand dollars. Shove them in my handbag.

Not because I want anything from him.

Because I need to get to Dad.

I stand on legs that barely hold me and head for the stairs.

Upstairs, I grab my handbag and my phone from the guest room, and come back down. They're all still sitting there, watching me like I'm a show that's run too long.

"Where are you going?" Patricia asks.

I don't answer.

"Lucy." Kelvin's voice is bored now. "Where do you think you're going?"

I stop, my hand on the banister. Don't turn around.

"If you're thinking of running to your father," Kelvin says behind me, "he's dead. Died three years ago."

The words hit like ice water.

I freeze.

"I was at the funeral, actually," he continues. Casual. Like he's mentioning the weather. "Lovely service."

My hand tightens on the banister until my knuckles go white.

I turn around.

"That's—that's a l-lie."

They're all watching me. Kelvin leaned back on the couch, arm draped around Miranda. Patricia with that cruel little smile. Diane's eyes gleaming.

"That's a l-lie," I say again. Louder this time. My voice shakes but I don't care. "You're lying."

Patricia crosses the room in three steps.

Her hand cracks across my face before I can move.

The slap echoes in the quiet house. My cheek burns, then throbs.

"Don't you dare call my son a liar," she hisses, inches from my face.

Kelvin doesn't even blink. Miranda looks away. Diane smiles.

I press my hand to my cheek. It's already swelling.

"Did you really think we'd let you know?" Patricia continues, stepping back. "You would've ruined everything. All that crying, that drama. We didn't need the complication.”

No.

No, they're lying. They have to be.

My father can't be dead. Not for three years. Not without me knowing. Someone would have told me. Someone would have–

The room tilts.

Three years.

I yank the door open and stumble outside.

The night air hits my face. I stand on the empty street, my breath comes in short, sharp gasps.

I pull my phone from my bag with trembling fingers and open the Uber app.

A car is three minutes away.

I wipe the tears from my face and wait.