Not interested in Non ex

Elena’s pov My shoes were falling apart again. The left sole was flapping like a loose tongue with every step slapping against the wet sidewalk in a rhythm that matched only the pounding in my head. I had duct-taped it twice this month, but the rain this morning had turned the tape into a gray sludge. My bag was heavy with textbooks, two changes of clothes for my shifts, and the crumpled remains of a sandwich I hadn’t had time to eat but I clutched the strap tighter and kept moving. The line at the corner coffee cart snaked halfway down the block. The air smelled of dark roast, vanilla, and something warm and expensive, making my mouth water. For three seconds I let myself imagine handing over four dollars for a cup that would keep me awake through the night shift at the diner. Then I saw the total on the little chalkboard sign and put the thought back where it belonged. I didn't have four dollars but that was the price for my bus fare for three days and half a prescription refill. I kept walking. I had work to get to and even though people called me smart that didn't mean I didn't have other life problems. I was the quiet one with straight A’s, always quiet and never asking for help but today, the armor just felt heavy. My phone… well, the phone I borrowed from Rosa at the laundromat this morning after she caught me staring at the dead screen of my phone due to the service being cut off two days ago vibrated in my pocket. I almost didn’t answer but when I saw the unknown number, something in my gut twisted. “Hello?” “Is this Ellie?” The nurse’s voice sounded calm but edged with urgency. “We’re trying to reach the emergency contact for Martha Graves.” My stomach dropped. She called me Ellie and only Martha called me that. Hearing it now, on a borrowed phone in the middle of the street, felt like a hand closing around my throat. “Yes,” I said, already turning toward the bus stop. “This is her. I’m coming.” --- The hospital smelled like bleach and fear which was now so familiar to me that I hated it. I took the stairs two at a time to the third floor, ignoring the way my wet shoes squeaked against the linoleum. The door to room 317 was cracked open but I couldn't bring myself to walk in. I paused outside for half a second, to steady myself before stepping inside. Martha looked small in the bed which was the worst part. She had always been larger than life to me—fierce, funny, the only person who ever made the world feel welcomed. Now her skin was pale against the white sheets, the monitors beeping steadily, but her eyes were open, and when they found me, they softened. “Ellie,” she whispered. I crossed to her in three strides and took her hand. Her fingers were cold, but she squeezed back with surprising strength. “I’m here,” I said, my voice cracking. “What happened?” She tried to smile but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Just my stupid heart acting up again. They say I need surgery for valve replacement and they said it's urgent.” Dread spread through my veins with each word. I sat on the edge of the plastic chair, still holding her hand and that was when the doctor came in with his, clipboard in hand and his face carefully neutral. He explained it in the gentle, practiced way they do when the news is bad. Martha has no insurance so we had to pay sixty-eight thousand dollars out of pocket just to start. More if complications arose. Payment plans existed, but the first specialist consult and pre-op work needed to happen now. I had to pay sixty-eight thousand for my Martha's surgery. I stared at the floor while my mind raced through every impossible option. I didn't qualify for loans and all my credit cards had already been maxed out, and even after taking a second jobs on top of the two I already had. I still had nothing. Martha watched me with that eyes that always looked like they saw too much. “Don’t you start worrying yourself sick,” she said when the doctor left. Her voice was thin but came out steady. “I’ve made it this far on stubbornness alone.” I laughed, but it came out wet. I hadn’t cried in months but my eyes watered. “You’re not doing this alone anymore,” I told her. “I’ll find a way.” Martha had taken me in when no one else would. She loved me when the Hart family kicked me out and locked the door on me with a warning, worked double shifts cleaning offices so I could stay in school and left the light on for me every night I came home late, even when I told her to stop wasting electricity. Before she drifted off, her grip tightened on my hand. “Whatever you have to do to pay for this, Ellie… promise me one thing.” Her eyes were serious now, the old fire flickering beneath the exhaustion. “Stay away from the Hart family. They’re poison. I don’t want you going near them.” My heart ached. “But he's my father mom!. They knocked you up and abandoned you with me, that's not how they do things mom. Rich family or not.” Her eyes watered. “Please stay away from them. I'm just the maid and they're ashamed of us.” I didn’t answer. I just held her hand until her breathing evened out and the monitors settled into their quiet rhythm. Martha had warned me about the Harts my whole life and I never asked why. Some doors were better left closed. I kissed her forehead, whispered that I’d be back tomorrow, and slipped out of the room. --- The borrowed phone buzzed again the second I stepped into the hallway with another unknown number. I almost ignored it but something made me answer. “Hello?” “Elena Celeste Hart.” Her voice was smooth, polished, and achingly familiar in a way that made my blood run cold. No one called me with my full name and I made sure I buried the middle name with everything else connected to the people who’d given it to me. I stopped walking. “Who is this?” A soft laugh, like silk over steel. “You know exactly who this is. And I know exactly what’s happening with Martha. I know you need money for her heart valve surgery and you have no insurance. Devastating, isn’t it? I’ve known for three days.” My hand tightened around the phone until my knuckles ached. It was Victoria, my half-sister. The golden child who lived in the world I was never allowed to touch. “How…” “I have something coming up. A situation I need handled quietly,” she continued, as if I hadn’t spoken. Her tone shifted, turning brisk and businesslike. “That is why I’ve been waiting for the perfect moment to make this call.” I swallowed hard. “What do you want from me?” I could feel her evil smile at the other end of the phone. “A replacement.” The words landed like a bomb in my head. A what?