She Traded Her Father For Fashion Chapter 2

At eight o'clock that evening, I drove to the upscale steakhouse downtown.

I pushed open the door to the private dining room, and the loud laughter instantly died. Cathy was holding a half-empty wine glass, her arm draped casually over Brittany’s shoulder. Zach sat next to them, running his fingers admiringly over a brand-new Chanel flap bag sitting on the table.

"Oh, look who decided to show up," Brittany sneered, leaning back in her chair. "Did you come all this way to beg us for spare change?"

The rest of the table burst into snickering laughter.

Cathy’s expression immediately soured. She slammed her wine glass down on the table, red liquid splashing over the white tablecloth.

"Luke, did you follow me?" she demanded, standing up and marching toward me. "Who gave you permission to come here? Get the hell out!"

She stopped inches from my face, her breath smelling of expensive Pinot Noir.

"Was I not clear enough on the phone this afternoon? You just had to come here and humiliate me in front of my friends, didn't you?"

I looked past her at the lavish spread on the table. "This dinner alone probably cost a grand. You really spared no expense to celebrate a piece of leather."

Zach rolled his eyes, resting his chin on his hand. "You sound so bitter, Luke. Cathy has vision. She knows how to cultivate a high-status network. Not like you, obsessing over a few hundred bucks in medical bills. You have no class."

I turned my gaze slowly to Zach. "Class is spending life-saving money on a steak dinner? Next time you get sick, Zach, don't bother going to the hospital. Just pray to Brittany's new bag."

Zach’s face flushed. He turned to Brittany. "Brittany, look at him!"

Brittany slammed her hand on the table and stood up. "Luke, don't overstep. Cathy lent me that money because she respects me. As a man, your only job is to take care of the house. Stay out of women's business!"

Cathy grabbed Brittany's arm to calm her, then spun back to me, raising her voice. "Apologize to Brittany right now! If you ruin tonight, I swear to God you'll regret it!"

I stared at her, watching the ugly, distorted lines of her face. "Apologize? Cathy, did you forget that half of that ten thousand came from my paycheck? What gives you the right to throw it away without even asking me?"

Cathy let out a harsh, dry laugh. "Your paycheck? You married into my life. Everything you have belongs to me, so your money is my money! I can lend it to whoever I want. Besides, your dad's illness is a black hole. Why should I pour my hard-earned money into keeping him alive?"

She shoved me hard against the chest. I took a step back, steadying myself, and felt the cold draft from the hallway.

"So you'd rather let someone die than give up the money?" I asked quietly.

"Yes!" Cathy nodded defiantly. "Not a single cent! Go ahead, call the cops on me if you want!"

The room fell silent. The guests watched us, their expressions filled with amusement and disgust. To them, I was just a nagging, pathetic husband trying to ruin a good night.

I pulled the hospital invoice from my coat pocket and slapped it onto the table.

"This is the hospital notice," I said, my voice carrying clearly across the room. "The doctor said if we don't pay by midnight, he's gone. I'm asking you one last time. Are you paying?"

Cathy snatched the paper, ripped it in half, and then tore it into tiny pieces, letting them flutter down onto the floor like dirty snow.

"I said no! You can crawl on your knees and I still won't give you a dime! Now get out of my sight!"

I looked down at the shredded paper at my feet, then nodded slowly. "Fine, Cathy. Remember what you said tonight."

I turned around and pulled open the door. As it began to swing shut, Brittany's voice drifted out.

"God, Cathy, you're a badass! That's how you handle a leech!"

"Exactly," Cathy replied, her voice loud with pride. "You give men an inch, and they take a mile."

Once outside, I pulled out my phone and texted the primary surgeon.

Dr. Cooper, the family refuses to pay. Please continue with basic palliative care.

I took an Uber home.

Ten thousand dollars for your own father's life. Quite a bargain, Cathy.