Chapter 3

Bruce's phone had practically become a hotline to his mother. He called her at least three times a day, showering her with concern and reassurance.

"Mom, don't panic. I'm having someone prepare Dad's room right now. It will be the finest VIP suite in the entire hospital."

"I bought a ton of imported supplements. Tell Dad not to skimp on them."

"Tell Dad not to worry about money at all. I've got plenty. Even if I have to sell everything I own, I'll find a way to get him better."

His voice carried across the room. Standing nearby, I felt sickened by the irony.

When my dad had left, Bruce hadn't said a single word to stop him. If anything, he'd been relieved that Jack had left his entire life savings behind.

But now that his own dad was sick, Bruce was willing to sell everything we owned to save him. Apparently, some lives were simply worth more to him than others.

...

That evening, his sister, Lindsey Bradford, came over carrying a basket of fruit.

The moment she walked through the door, she grabbed Bruce's hand, her eyes swollen from crying.

"Bruce, how bad is Dad's condition?" she asked anxiously.

"Don't worry," Bruce reassured her, guiding her toward the couch. "I've got everything under control. I've got the top specialist in the city lined up for next week, and I'm arranging the finest private room available."

"Thank goodness." Lindsey sighed with relief before her expression shifted into mild frustration. "Honestly, why didn't Dad say anything sooner if he wasn't feeling well? He had to wait until a routine checkup caught it."

"You know how he is," Bruce said, shaking his head. "He just didn't want us to worry."

I quietly poured Lindsey a glass of water and handed it to her. She accepted it with a brief nod.

"Cheryl, you've really had your hands full these past few days," she said. "Bruce doesn't know the first thing about handling this kind of thing, so you've had to take care of everything yourself."

"It's fine," I said flatly.

"Once Dad is admitted, I'll take some time off work and stay with him at the hospital," Lindsey offered.

"You're busy with work. You don't need to be there every day," Bruce reassured her. "I'm hiring a top-tier private nurse to stay with him. $2,000 a day."

"Still, someone from the family needs to keep an eye on things," Lindsey insisted. "A nurse can take care of him, but she won't care about him the way a family does."

"I already took an extended leave from work," Bruce said, patting his chest proudly. "I'll take care of him myself."

"You?" Lindsey chuckled. "You can't even boil an egg. How exactly are you planning to take care of him?"

"Well, if I can't handle everything, Cheryl's right here," Bruce blurted out.

He seemed to realize how that sounded a second later and quickly corrected himself. "I mean... Cheryl will help me."

Lindsey glanced at me, her expression caught somewhere between pity and awkwardness.

Bruce wasn't wrong, though.

If he couldn't handle something, I'd be there to pick up the slack.

In his mind, I was a machine that never got tired, never complained, and somehow had an endless supply of time and energy to devote to his family.

They talked for hours, discussing everything from treatment plans and rehabilitation to whether they should buy a place nearby for their parents.

"The condo across the hall is on the market," Bruce eventually said. "Why don't we buy it for Mom and Dad? That way they'll be right across the hall, and it will be much easier for us to take care of them."

"Isn't that place insanely expensive?" Lindsey said hesitantly. "It's worth millions."

"Money can always be earned again. Dad's health can't," Bruce said with solemn conviction. "We can pool our money for the down payment. What do you think, Cheryl?"

He finally remembered I was sitting there.

I looked up at his expectant face and forced a smile. "Fine by me."

"See?" Bruce beamed, turning back to Lindsey. "Cheryl agrees. She's always been so understanding."