The Choice

Talia scrubbed the paper towel over her face until her skin burned. She leaned over the porcelain sink in the ground-floor restroom, splashing cold water against her eyes to reduce the swelling. Red streaks webbed across her irises, but the tears had stopped. Crying bought no time and saved no lives. She tossed the paper into the bin and headed up to the oncology floor.

The corridor smelled of bleach and sterile rubber. Evening visiting hours were ending, and the hallway was quiet save for the hum of monitoring machines. Talia pushed open the door to room 412.

Her mother sat propped against thin pillows, watching a cooking program on the wall-mounted television. Her frame looked smaller each week, her collarbones sharp beneath the faded hospital gown. When the door clicked, she turned her head. Her tired smile faded fast.

"Talia, sweetheart. What happened to you?"

Talia forced brightness into her tone as she sat in the vinyl chair beside the bed. "Nothing happened, Mama. Just tired from work."

"Your eyes are swollen."

Talia reached across the bedsheet and took her mother’s hand. The skin felt dry as paper, the fingers cold and thin. "The subway car was full of dust, and I rubbed them on the walk over. How are you feeling?"

Her mother looked closely at her, ignoring the cooking program. "You look like you have been crying. Don't lie to me."

"I am fine, Mama. Work has been hectic with quarterly reports."

On the television, a chef explained the proper way to reduce wine into shallots. Talia kept her gaze fixed on the screen, tracking the pan rather than the sunken hollows of her mother's face.

"Has your father come home yet?"

The question hit Talia's gut like a lead weight. The image of the pried-open lockbox flashed in her mind. Three thousand dollars, gone into a bookie's pocket or a dive bar.

Talia squeezed the thin fingers in her grip. "No. He is still out of town."

"He will come back. He always does."

Talia kept her jaw tight. A bitter taste flooded her mouth. She wanted to strip away the delusion. She wanted to tell her mother that Jared had broken into the apartment and stolen every cent saved for her chemotherapy. That he had picked gambling debts over her survival. But the truth would crush whatever strength kept her breathing.

Instead, Talia stood and smoothed the white blanket. "The doctor said you need sleep before the new cycle begins next week. I should let you rest."

"You just got here."

The lies came easily now, piling on top of each other. Talia kissed her mother's forehead, breathing in the scent of lavender soap beneath the sharp medicinal smell. "Mr. Voss scheduled an early morning meeting tomorrow. I have files to review tonight. I will come back tomorrow evening. Rest now."

"Be safe on the train, baby."

Talia nodded and slipped out into the corridor before her composure broke.

The subway car rattled along the uptown tracks. Talia stood near the doors, clutching the cold metal pole. Her reflection in the dark window showed hollow cheeks and dark rings beneath her eyes.

Kaelen Voss’s voice echoed in her head.

*Marry me. One million dollars. Two years.*

It was an insane proposition. A cold business transaction disguised as a legal union. But in less than twenty-four hours, Roman’s men would seize the house. Her mother would have nowhere to go when the hospital discharged her. And without the stolen cash, the clinic would cancel chemotherapy.

One million dollars fixed every problem.

Talia reached her apartment building past eight o'clock. She climbed the stairs to the third floor, her limbs heavy with exhaustion.

Her front door was standing wide open.

Panic tightened her chest. She had pulled the deadbolt shut before leaving for the hospital; she was certain of it. Talia stepped to the hallway closet, pulled an umbrella from the brass stand, and gripped the handle like a club.

She pushed the door open with the toe of her boot.

Jared was sprawled on the living room couch.

Her father had his work boots propped on the coffee table. He looked unwashed, his beard gray and patchy, his flannel shirt wrinkled. A cold bottle of beer dangled from his fingers, and condensation pooled on the wood.

Rage erupted in Talia's chest.

She dropped the umbrella and charged into the room. "Where is the money?"

Jared did not flinch. He took a swallow from the bottle and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. "You had three thousand dollars hidden under the floorboards while your father was getting his life threatened across town?"

"That money was for Mama's chemo! You had no right to touch it! Every single dollar was meant to keep her alive!" Talia yelled, her voice raw.

Jared set the bottle down with a clatter. "She has stage three cancer, Talia. Nobody survives stage three. Why waste cash on a lost cause?"

The words hit her like a punch to the chest.

Talia pointed toward the door. "Get out of my apartment."

Jared swung his legs off the table. "My name is on the lease. You don't tell me what to do in this place."

"I pay the rent! Get out!"

Jared stood up. He crossed the rug in two steps, his hand swinging fast. The slap landed hard across her cheek, the crack echoing off the walls.

Pain bloomed across her face, hot and sharp.

Jared stepped into her space, his voice dropping into a rasp. "I am your father. Do not raise your voice at me."

Talia touched her cheek, feeling the sting. The last shred of filial loyalty inside her vanished.

"Get out."

Jared struck her again. The second slap carried his full weight, snapping her head back.

The force sent Talia stumbling into the kitchen counter. Her hip banged hard against the edge, a throb of pain shooting down her leg. Operating on instinct, her hand swept across the counter and locked around the handle of an eight-inch kitchen knife in the drying rack.

Talia raised the blade between them, the tip pointed straight at his chest.

"Step back."

Jared stared at the steel, then at her eyes, his mouth twisting into a sneer. "You wouldn't use that. You don't have the guts."

Talia stepped forward, bringing the point inches from his collarbone. "Try me."

The sneer vanished. Jared saw the icy resolve in her face. He backed away toward the entry, raising both hands. "You're crazy. You've lost your mind."

"Get out!"

Jared grabbed his jacket off the chair, backed through the doorway, and slammed the door behind him. His heavy boots thudded down the stairs until the building went quiet.

Talia lowered the knife. She bolted the lock, fastened the security chain, and checked the deadbolt three times. Then she sank to the floor, her back against the door. She sat in the silence for ten minutes until her breathing slowed.

By nine o'clock, she forced herself up to clean.

She spent two hours putting the ransacked apartment back together. She picked up overturned drawers, folded scattered clothes, and swept up debris. She used a wet cloth to scrub the beer ring from the table, erasing every trace of Jared's presence.

By eleven o'clock, she sat on her bed in the dark room, staring at her phone screen.

A purple bruise throbbed on her cheekbone. Roman was coming for the house tomorrow. The hospital would discharge her mother without payment. And Jared would steal whatever she earned next.

She had no other options. Marrying Kaelen Voss was a devil's bargain, but the devil was the only one offering a way out.

Talia found Kaelen's private number. She tapped the screen and held the phone to her ear.

It rang three times and clicked over to voicemail.

She hung up and dialed again. The call rang out with the same result.

Panic spiked in her throat. If he had changed his mind or moved on to someone else, she was doomed.

Talia dialed a third time.

On the third ring, the line clicked.

"Yes?"

Kaelen's voice was clipped, cold, and impatient.

Talia gripped the phone tighter. "Mr. Voss. It's Talia. About your offer."

A heavy silence fell over the line. She could hear the faint rustle of papers in the background.

"Go on," he said.

Talia took a steady breath, pushing past the ache in her jaw. "I accept your proposal. Two years. But I need half of the money upfront before I sign."

A pause followed.

"Fine. Have your documents ready. Be at my office tomorrow morning at nine. Do not be late." Kaelen spoke without hesitation, his tone flat.

The call disconnected.

Talia lowered the phone to her lap. She sat motionless, staring into the dark room, acutely aware that she had just agreed to sell two years of her life to the devil.