I stop pacing at last and throw up my hands. “There’s no other way,” I say again. But this time it’s without heat.
Without hope.
“I already did it once,” I go on. “What’s thirty days compared to the rest of my life—and Maisie’s life, more importantly?”
It’s true, isn’t it? I already stood on an auction stage and let myself be sold to the highest bidder because Maisie needed surgery and we were drowning in debt. Already let myself be taken away to Eva’s castle, taken into her bed, let her touch me and taste me and make me feel things I’d never felt before…
All for my family. All for love.
“I’m doing it,” I say firmly. “I’ll do it.”
“Robin…” And for the first time, I hear past my own selfish pain to hear the agony in Adrian’s voice. “I can’t let you do this. Mom would never forgive me if I…”
I stare at him, this brother who’s grown up too fast, who’s shouldered burdens no eighteen-year-old should have to carry. His eyes are steady on mine, unflinching, and I can see the guilt there. The self-hatred.
He hates himself that he’s hoping I’ll do it anyway. Hates that we’re in a position where letting his older sister sell herself is the only option left.
“You don’t get a say,” I say flatly. “No,” I go on, as he tries to argue again. “This is my choice, Adrian. And it’s made. You can’t do anything about it except support me in it, and—and if you think Mom would be ashamed of me, then you don’t even need to do that.”
He blinks rapidly and looks away. “Of course I’ll support you,” he says roughly. “Whatever you need.”
“I need you to take care of everyone while I’m away.” Now that I’ve made the decision, come to terms with it, I feel suddenly calm again. Because this is what love looks like sometimes. Making impossible choices and living with the consequences.
And damn this whole rotten world that forces human beings to choose between dignity and survival.
“Robin,” Adrian says, and closes the few steps between us to take my hand. “That wasn’t what I meant about Mom. She wouldn’t be ashamed of you. I just wish I could have done more so that you didn’t have to…do what you did.”
I squeeze his hand, about to tell him how much I love him, when footsteps sound at the end of the hallway, and we both whip around, tense and on edge. But it’s just the doctor—Dr. Martinez, a kind-faced man in his fifties who’s been treating Maisie since we brought her in this time round.
He’s carrying a clipboard and despite the fact that he’s wearing a smile, my stomach drops, preparing for another blow.
“Good news,” he says, and the words are so unexpected that I blink stupidly at him. “We can prep Maisie immediately. It’s an excellent protocol—she should respond very quickly, and will probably be home by the end of the week.”
I stare at him like he’s speaking a foreign language. “Wait—what? Did the insurance company finally come around, or?—?”
The doctor’s smile falters slightly, confusion flickering across his features. “Didn’t anyone tell you? An anonymous benefactor has offered to cover all costs for Maisie’s operation. Everything—the medication, the procedure, aftercare, home visits from a nurse. It’s all been arranged.”
Anonymous benefactor, my ass.
There’s only one person in Las Vegas with a motive for this, and she just happened to visit us a few hours ago.
Heat floods my cheeks. Fury and humiliation and—so much worse—relief.
Becauseof courseEva did this. She couldn’t wait for my answer, couldn’t give me the dignity of making my own choice. She had to swoop in like some twisted fairy godmother and solve our problems without permission.
Just to rub my nose in it.
Adrian catches my gaze, his expression solemn. He doesn’t say a word, but I can see the deep relief in his eyes. Eva has backed me into a corner so neatly I almost have to admire the strategy. Almost.
“That’s…great news,” I manage, my mouth tasting like sawdust. “Let’s get started.”
Dr. Martinez beams, obviously pleased to be delivering good news for once. “Wonderful. I’ll get the paperwork started immediately.”
And then he hands me the first form and heads off to get more, leaving Adrian and me alone. I sink into one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs against the wall, suddenly exhausted beyond measure.
“Maybe she—” Adrian starts, but I hold up a hand to stop him.
“No. She only ever does things for one reason: to benefit herself.”
