In our house, Mom had to live by a performance review system. But Dad was the one who held the absolute veto. For five years, every single thing she wanted to do had to go through a family vote before it could happen. It applied to the big things, like looking for a job or going to visit Grammy, down to the smallest detail of what we were having for dinner. Until last night, when Mom’s appendix flared up. She was crying, clutching her stomach, begging Dad to drive her to the emergency room. But his eyes never left his phone screen. "Everyone gets a stomach ache now and then. It’s not a life-or-death emergency." His voice was flat, devoid of any concern. "Just bear with it. We’ll look at the vote results after my morning meeting tomorrow." Mom’s face grew impossibly pale. For the first time in her marriage, she ignored Dad’s rules and dialed 911 herself. I chased her downstairs as she stumbled toward the lobby. But just as we reached the entrance, the glass doors slid open. Dad walked in, carrying an ice pack, with Amber—the woman who was always hanging around our house. "Jared, seriously, I just ate too much spicy food and got a little gum inflammation," Amber was saying, her voice a sweet, breathy coo. "I could have just taken some Advil at home. Besides, you’re a married man. Being with me at this hour... I don't want people calling me a homewrecker." Dad muttered something about her being silly, but his movements were incredibly gentle as he pressed the ice pack against her cheek. I looked up at Mom. Tears were streaming down her face, cutting clean lines through the cold sweat on her cheeks. I instinctively reached into my pocket and pulled out a little red paper flower I had folded, trying to make her feel better. "Be good, Mommy, don't cry," I whispered, tugging her coat. "Daddy said I was a very good girl today. He gave me a five-star rating, just like yours!" Mom’s face went completely blank. She snatched the paper flower from my hand and threw it into the dirt. "Lucy, sweetheart," she whispered, her voice cracking. "Let's leave Daddy. Okay?" … It was as if a final, heavy metal door had slammed shut in her mind. She took my hand, stepping right over the crushed paper flower, and led me into the hospital’s billing department. But when the nurse took Mom's health insurance card and tapped on her keyboard for a moment, she slid it back across the counter. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but the primary policyholder on this account needs to be present, or you need to use your own individual card. We can't process this transaction otherwise." Mom’s hand pressed harder against her lower abdomen. She trembled, her lips turning a stark, bloodless white. She softly begged the nurse to check the system one more time. But as the nurse explained the policy details, I heard Amber's name slip into the conversation again. Mom’s eyes turned a rim of burning crimson. She pulled a battered, paint-chipped flip phone from her coat pocket and dialed Dad’s number. He hung up on her, over and over. Her fingers shook so violently she almost pressed the wrong keys. Finally, on the eighth try, the line connected. "Did you change the primary policyholder on my medical insurance to Amber? Jared, that card belongs to me. What right do you have to make that decision for me?" Dad didn't care about the shallow, ragged breaths she was drawing. His voice through the speaker was cold and concise. "Amber has a fragile constitution. She needs the coverage more than you do right now." There was a heavy pause before he added, "Besides, I learned how to make unilateral decisions from you. If it hurts, bear it. Consider it penance for what you did to my mother." Mom stood frozen in the middle of the sterile hallway, completely silenced. That sentence was a rusted nail driven deep into the heart of their marriage. I didn't understand the reason behind it. I only knew that back when my grandmother was alive, Mom was the center of our universe, and Dad had treated her like royalty. No matter how busy he was, a single phone call from Mom would make him walk out of the most important board meetings. When he went on business trips, he would call her dozens of times a day just to report where he was. On their anniversary, he had once rented out a downtown rooftop to fill the sky with fireworks, and another year, he took her to see the Northern Lights from a helicopter. Now, all of that was gone, replaced by a cold, calculating ledger. The nurse who had watched the whole exchange looked at us with deep sympathy, then looked down at me. She let out a heavy sigh, typed a rapid sequence into her computer, and spoke gently. "A ruptured appendix can be fatal, sweetie. I'm going to pull some strings to get you a temporary pain pump first. If you start bleeding internally, it’ll be too late. Use this time to call anyone you know to borrow some money. You need to get this surgery scheduled immediately." In a moment of life and death, even a complete stranger couldn't bear to look away. Yet the man who had promised to love her chose to stand by and watch, systematically cutting away her very last lifeline. The tears Mom had been fighting back finally spilled over her cheeks. She pulled me close, bowing slightly to thank the nurse over and over. But just as the pain medication began to take effect, the heavy doors of the waiting room were pushed open. My chest tightened automatically. Whenever she was around, my parents always ended up screaming at each other. Amber strolled in, her eyes scanning the room until they landed on the fresh needle mark on the back of Mom's hand. A small, mocking smile played on her lips. She crossed her arms, her pretty face twisting into a look of quiet disdain. "I thought I saw you two coming in. I guess I was right." She stepped closer. "What's the plan this time? Playing sick again to get Jared to feel sorry for you? Too bad he doesn't have time for your little dramas right now." She unlocked her phone and thrust the screen directly in front of our faces. In the fifteen-second video, Dad was standing at a high-end coffee shop counter, carefully instructing the barista on a highly customized drink order—specifying the exact temperature, sweetness, and toppings. He even reminded the cashier that Amber was on her period, demanding they serve it warm to soothe her stomach. Every single detail was tailored to Amber’s exact preferences. In the past, seeing something like this would have brought a look of profound sorrow to Mom's eyes, and she would have confronted him about it later. But this time, she just stared quietly at the hospital intake form in her hand. Then, she looked up and spoke in a flat, even voice. "Are you interested in a trade? One hundred thousand dollars, and you can have the title of Mrs. Hamiltion." Amber froze for a fraction of a second, then rolled her eyes with a harsh laugh. "Isla, are you out of your mind? Jared’s tech company is worth millions. One hundred thousand dollars is pocket change to him. Honestly, that's less than what I spend on my dog’s premium food in a week." Everyone knew how much Jared was worth. Over the last few years, his AI programming firm had taken off, turning him into a multi-millionaire. The shares his wife would be entitled to in a divorce were astronomical. But Mom only let out a small, self-deprecating smile. Amber had no idea that the "dog food money" she sneered at was the exact amount Mom needed to pay for the surgery that would save her life. Ever since Grandmother passed away, Dad had cut off Mom's access to all their joint accounts. He had even gone behind her back to submit a resignation letter to her employer, forcing her to stay home. Every dollar she spent over the last few years had to be begged for, approved only through his humiliating "family voting system." She had thought she could endure the coldness until the wounds healed, but now, she was literally running out of time. Mom reached up, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Right there, in front of me and Amber, she slowly slid the wedding ring off her finger and placed it in her palm. "If you can, please have someone appraise this and give me the cash value. Thank you." The ring was a simple platinum band, set with a tiny, inexpensive diamond. It was so ordinary and worn that if it fell on the floor, no one would bother to pick it up. But Mom had once told me it was the first real gift Dad had ever bought her, back when he was working three part-time jobs. They had lived in a damp basement apartment then, sharing cheap instant noodles every night. Even though that ring had only cost a few hundred dollars, she had been happier then than at any other point in her life. Later, when Jared made his first fortune, he had taken her to a high-end auction house and bought her a flawless, multi-carat diamond to make up for the lean years. But when they got home, Mom had simply locked the massive diamond in a safe and put the cheap platinum band right back on her finger. Now, she was ready to discard the one thing she had treasured above all else. Amber took the ring, glanced at it with obvious disgust, and tossed it into a nearby trash can. She pulled out a wet wipe and thoroughly cleaned her fingers. "Why go through all that trouble? I'll give you half a million. Of course, the only thing of value here is the title you're giving up. But you have to swear to me—you will never appear in front of Jared again for the rest of your life." Before Mom could reply, a tall shadow fell across the threshold. When Dad walked into the room, both women went completely rigid. The air in the tiny waiting room turned instantly frigid. Seeing him staring directly at her, Mom instinctively hid her bare left hand behind her back, terrified he would realize what she and Amber had been discussing. But before she could say anything to break the tension, Dad shot her a freezing glare. He turned his back on her, handing a plush toy to Amber. His eyes softened with a warmth and concern he didn't even seem to realize he was displaying. "I told you to wait for me in the lobby. Why didn't you listen?" He reached out, his voice dropping to a gentle murmur. "Did she do something to make you uncomfortable?" Mom’s shoulders trembled. Her grip on her hidden hand tightened. Whenever Amber came to our house, it always ended in disaster. She would either claim Mom had slipped peanuts into her food to trigger her allergy, or run crying to Dad claiming Mom had tried to push her down the stairs. I couldn't bear it anymore. I stepped in front of Mom, raising my voice. "That's a lie! Mommy didn't touch her at all!" Amber kept her head down, refusing to meet anyone's eyes. To Dad, her silence was confirmation. A flash of pure fury crossed his face. He stepped right past me, grabbed Mom's arm roughly, and dragged her forward. "Did I not tell you?" he hissed, his voice low and dangerous. "If you ever lay a finger on Amber again, I will make you pay for it tenfold." His fingers dug directly into the fresh bruise where the nurse had inserted the pain medication line. Mom winced, her entire body tensing with pain. Seeing her expression, Dad let go slightly, but the disgust in his eyes only deepened. "You really are an incredible actress, Isla. This is the exact same face you used to lie to me back then. You make me sick." At that moment, Amber clutched her stomach and let out a light giggle. "Jared, I'm just teasing you. We were just gossiping about the office, and I laughed so hard I got a cramp. I'm completely fine now." Dad immediately let go of Mom’s hand, turning all his attention back to Amber. He picked up her bag and called out to the passing nurse, his voice tight with anxiety. "Stop playing around. First your teeth hurt, now your stomach. Let's get you checked out by a specialist right now." Amber stuck her tongue out playfully, leaning into him as he hurried to get her registered. From their quiet chatter, I realized that Dad had spent three sleepless nights building a custom restaurant-filtering app just for her, mapping out every place in the city that could accommodate her dietary restrictions. Mom stood there, watching and listening to every word. But she merely rubbed her bruised arm in silence, acting as if she were entirely deaf to it. Realizing he had wrongfully accused her, Dad paused for a fraction of a second. He looked back at Mom, his lips parting as if to say something. But then Amber let out a sharp gasp, crouching down in pain. Dad instantly panicked. Just then, the nurse who had helped Mom came back into the room with a clipboard. She shook a thermometer and looked at Mom. "I got the emergency authorization from the chief. Once we take your temp, follow me. You're incredibly lucky—Dr. Pierce has one open slot left today before he leaves. He’s the absolute best GI surgeon in this hospital..." I felt a surge of joy. "Mommy, you won't have to hurt anymore!" But Dad immediately caught the doctor's name. He stepped between us and the nurse, his voice cold and commanding. "Wait. We're taking that slot." The nurse shook her head. "I'm sorry, sir, but this patient's condition is far more critical. If it's just mild abdominal pain, we have other general practitioners on call—" Before she could finish her sentence, Dad pulled a black card from his wallet and threw it onto her clipboard. "Your chief of medicine is an old classmate of mine. I'm telling you to register Amber first. Besides, high-end medical resources—just like votes in our house—belong to the people who actually have the standing to use them." A moment later, the nurse's pager beeped. The emergency authorization for Mom had been revoked. She looked at Dad with a mixture of anger and disgust, but she didn't dare cross the Hamiltion family. She turned and walked away. As the pain medication began to wear off, Mom’s condition grew worse. Her skin felt hot to the touch, and her collar was soaked through with cold sweat. I couldn't hold it in anymore. I burst into tears, clutching her hand. "Mommy, the nurse said your tummy is bleeding... It hurts so bad, doesn't it?" Mom reached down to stroke my hair, trying to find the words to comfort me. But Dad only looked down at us, the disdain in his eyes like black ink that wouldn't wash away. "Isla, I really have to hand it to you. You haven't taught this kid a single decent thing, but she's certainly learned how to manipulate people and play the victim. Internal bleeding? What’s next? Are you going to tell her you're dying?" Don't you dare talk about my mommy like that! My eyes stung with hot tears. I raised my tiny fists, ready to throw myself at him. But Mom held me back, pulling me tightly into her arms. She looked up at Dad, meeting his gaze with a faint, empty smile. "Whatever you say, Jared." Dad scoffed and turned away, his attention returning entirely to Amber's IV line. Fearing the cold liquid would make her uncomfortable, he knelt on the cold floor, wrapping his warm hands around the plastic tubing to preheat the saline. A young intern standing nearby looked at Amber with envy. When Dr. Pierce finally arrived, he quickly confirmed that Amber only had a mild case of acute gastroenteritis. She just needed half a bag of saline and some rest. Dad let out a long breath of relief. Only then did he look back at Mom, gesturing toward her with a nod to the doctor. "There's another patient over there. Put her treatment on my tab." The nurse who had been waiting outside walked in and whispered something into Dr. Pierce’s ear. The doctor’s expression turned instantly serious. He rushed over to Mom, kneeling down beside her chair. He began to press gently around her abdomen. With every touch, Mom’s face went whiter, and small, strangled groans escaped her throat. "Suspected internal hemorrhaging. This is an emergency!" Dr. Pierce called out. As the medical team scrambled around them, Dad froze. But when he saw Mom's agonized expression, and watched her trembling hand try to sign the delayed-payment waiver, the brief flash of worry in his eyes was replaced by a cold, bitter sneer. "Isla, who is this performance for? When you were studying programming with me in college, you should have switched to theater. You’d probably have an Oscar by now. You know, when my mother was lying on the operating table, you had that exact same tragic look on your face when you signed her papers. Too bad..." He stopped, his eyes turning bloodshot with a sudden, violent hatred. "No one is allowed to perform surgery on her!" The room fell dead silent. Dr. Pierce frowned deeply. "Sir, this isn't a game. A ruptured appendix is extremely—" Dad cut him off with a sharp wave of his hand. He looked down at Mom, his voice dropping to a level where only we could hear. "Back then, you went behind my back and signed my mother's DNR and assisted-dying papers without my consent. Now, I'm giving you a chance to atone. Let's put it to a vote. Whether you get this surgery is up to fate." Mom didn't argue. She simply closed her eyes, accepting his terms. Dad had the hospital staff bring in a small box. Ten people in the room—including me and Amber—were handed small slips of paper and pens. 1 for Yes. 2 for No. Just like I had done a hundred times before in our living room, I carefully wrote down a "1" and slid it into the box. But my chest felt like it was being crushed by a boulder, making it hard to breathe. The nurse counted the slips. One by one, they were all "1." Every single person in the room had voted to save her. Dr. Pierce let out a breath and immediately instructed the nurses to prep the operating room. But Dad held up a final slip of paper, halting them. "Wait. I have one more." Everyone stared at the bold, dark "2" written on his paper. The silence in the room became suffocating. Dad walked over to Mom, a cruel, mocking smile on his lips. "...I forgot to mention. I have the absolute veto."
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