Riley's pov

"If he wasn't drunk, then fine. How do you explain the drugs, huh? The hard drugs in his system and on him. How do you explain it!?”

I froze halfway from storming out of the house.

She believed them. She believed everything the police fed us with.

“What?” My voice was shallow, contrasting the hole in my chest.

"Just listen to me, Riley. There is a better approach to all this."

She held out her hands, holding mine.

“I have a better idea.”

That does not involve fighting for dad? I'll pass.

I swallowed the words and sat beside her, sniffing back the tears that threatened to pour.

She took my hands in hers, squeezing them tightly.

“There’s someone,” she said softly, almost too soft to hear. “He’s been... helping.”

I frowned, my chest tightening. “Helping?”

She nodded, her hazel eyes peering into mine . “ He offered to take care of everything. The bills. The transplant. Your College. A fresh start.”

A fresh start.

I wanted to pull away but she held tighter.

“We could use it to our advantage. He's a billionaire, with his money, we can finally get the justice we want.”

I gulped, “ And what does he want in return?”

She broke eye contact. “I didn’t want to tell you like this, Riley. He wants us to move in with him… and I said yes.”

I stared at her, frozen before it all sank in.

Move in with him.

Us.

Said yes.

“Wait.” My voice cracked. “Are you saying… you’re getting married?”

She finally looked at me.

And didn’t deny it.

Didn’t flinch.

Didn’t even blink.

“I’ve sacrificed a lot for your father,” she continued, her tone matter-of-fact, like this wasn’t betrayal, just math. “My business. My heart. Our house. Even your future, just to survive in this cabin. It’s enough, Riley. I want to live again. I deserve that.”

I scoffed in shock. Now it clicks in.

The missing piece.

"This is why dad's justice means nothing to you, right? It's nothing about the money?”

"You can think whatever you want,” she said, her voice rising. “But I won’t stay here just to die. Unless—” She met my eyes. “You’d rather carry my coffin in two months."

My breath hitched.

“Mom!?” I gasped.

“We said we’d fight,” I whispered. “You said you’d fight to your last drop of blood.”

She nodded slowly. “That was before my condition. Before we were duped of the last of our hope. I’m not losing anything else, Riley. At this rate, I’ll die fighting—and you’ll lose both of us.”

The doctor's words were clear. “ Two million dollars for a heart transplant.”

The room suddenly felt stuffy.

“So you want me to go with you? Leave the life I’ve built? My friends? Grandma? Stanley—my fiancé? Everything we’ve worked for? Just because there’s no hope?”

“You’ll still have them. Even better.” She reached for my hand again. “We’re going to New York. My hometown. We’ll find my family together. See life from another angle. Life isn’t always this hard.”

“Your family?” I scoffed. “To completely finish you off?”

She was silent.

Dad made it clear. You were found half-dead under a bridge. You made it clearer you were lastly with your biological sister. What the hell do you think happened?” I yelled, breathing hard.

Her lips pressed in a thin line and she looked upwards holding back tears, “ Everyone wants me dead. I should just—”

“Stop playing the pity card, Mom. Just stop.” My voice rose again, shaking.

“You’re leaving Dad. Your husband. For a stranger. And you want me to do the same? Hell no.”

“He's not a stranger. We were once business partners and he had always been good to me.”

I straightened up.

“So you had him in mind even when dad was alive?”

No response.

“You know, what?” I gulped hard. “Save your life, Mom. I’m not stopping you. But he wants you, not me. I’m staying here. I’ll finish what we started.”

She wiped the tears that slid down her cheeks.

“Then it’s settled,” she said. “Two months, it is.”