No Script For Me, No Mercy For Him

Chapter 2

I walked over, tucked the blanket around Noah, and forced a smile.

"Thanks, Noah."

He immediately noticed the redness around my eyes.

"Did Graham upset you again?"

"No."

I lowered my head and took the cup from his nightstand to the sink.

"I got something in my eye."

At noon, the door opened and Graham entered with two elegant insulated containers.

"How are you feeling today, Noah?"

"Much better. Thanks, Graham," Noah replied obediently.

Graham turned to me and lowered his voice.

"Are you still angry? I went all the way to Harbor House to pick up your favorite crab bisque. I also brought steamed grouper for Noah. Come eat before you make yourself sick from hunger."

The sight of the steaming fish made my stomach churn.

Noah hadn't been able to eat seafood since he became ill six years ago. A single bite could trigger acute bronchospasm.

I had told Graham that six years earlier. He had even sat beside me the previous month while the doctor repeated the warning.

"Why aren't you eating?"

Graham frowned and held a spoon toward me.

"Camille is trying to lose weight and insisted on seafood. I had to place the order 2 days in advance. Isn't the crab bisque here your favorite?"

'So Camille wanted seafood, and my meal is just an afterthought.'

I didn't take the spoon.

"Noah can't eat grouper."

Graham paused, then waved dismissively.

"Really? Then he won't eat it. I'll order him some chicken soup instead. Is that good enough?"

He pushed the fish aside, took out his phone, and tapped the screen several times.

My phone chimed. He had transferred 100,000 dollars to me.

"You've had a difficult few days," Graham said as he leaned back in his chair, as though the transfer settled everything. "Camille said your emotions were convincing. The production is certain to go viral when she releases it. Use this money to pay Noah's hospital bill next month. Spend whatever remains on some decent clothes for yourself. Stop walking around looking so shabby."

I stared at the long string of numbers on my screen and was suddenly struck by the absurdity of it all.

'My tears, my despair, and my brother's dignity are worth only 100,000 dollars to him.'

Without hesitating, I sent the money straight back in front of him. Then I picked up the container of crab bisque, walked to the trash can by the door, and threw the container and its contents away.

Graham shot to his feet, his face livid.

"What are you doing, Tessa? Don't be so ungrateful."

I turned and met his furious gaze.

"I'm not hungry, and Noah won't eat any of it. If you can't bear to see it wasted, take it out of the trash and bring it back to Camille."

His chest rose and fell sharply as he glared at me. At last, he gave a cold laugh.

"Fine, Tessa. You certainly have a backbone. I hope you can keep acting this proud when the hospital bill is due."

He slammed the door so hard that the room shook. His angry footsteps receded down the hallway.

I collapsed into a chair and stared at the closed door.

Years earlier, in that same hospital room, the doctors had told me Noah might not survive. I had cried so hard that I had nearly fainted.

Graham had wrapped his arms around me, his eyes red.

"Don't be afraid, Tessa. No matter what happens, I'll always be here for you."

Now he was using Noah's medical bills to threaten me for Camille's sake.

So much for his pretentious promise of forever.