Chapter 154
I didn’t think Allen had it in him to go so low. I asked with a frown, “Does Allen know the pin?”
“…I was afraid I’d forget the pin… Cheryl’s face was a portrait of regmt. “It’s the same as the one for our joint account.”
What? Both Christine and I were speechless.
Allen was a sly fox when it came to swindling money, and with the card in his hands, he’d surely be off to drain the account in no time. And it was too late to report the card missing then.
But something else was bugging me more. “Allen hasn’t stopped gambling, has he?”
“Hmm…” Cheryl cleaned her tears, her voice hardened with resolve, “He never really quit over the years. So, I never tell him how much you send us each month. I never imagined that bastard would dare to steal my emergency funds!”
“Why don’t you just divorce him then? Gambling’s a never–ending money hole!” Christine couldn’t hide her outrage.
“This time,” Cheryl looked up at me, her voice filled with apology. “I will, I must. If I had divorced him years ago, you wouldn’t have had to suffer all those hard times.”
I couldn’t help but think of how my parents had prepared me for the worst before they passed or the struggles of those years, feeling a lump form in my throat.
“That’s all in the past now.” Sniffling, I spoke, “Aunt Cheryl, let me be clear with you. If you’re determined to divorce and you’ve thought it through, I’ll figure something out for your treatment costs. After all, you gave me a place to stay when I needed it most. But if you decide not to leave him, gambling is a deep hole dragging you down, and I can’t follow you down. Do you understand what I’m saying?” Looking utterly ashamed, Cheryl nodded repeatedly, “Yeah, I understand. Jane, you’ve given me so much. Consider the treatment costs and that two hundred thousand a loan. I’ll pay you back once i’m well.”
“Okay.” I agreed, not wanting to burden her further.
Though Cheryl’s treatment wasn’t a small sum, I had saved some valuable items during my three years with the Ferguson family.
For three or four days straight, Christine stayed with me in the hospital, not leaving for a moment. But every night, I could sense someone had visited. Sometimes, it was a gentle kiss on my forehead, a hand holding mine, and sometimes, he just sat quietly by my
bed.
Finally, feeling much better, the doctor told me I didn’t need any more medication and that I could go home in a few days.
Unable to sleep due to too much rest in the previous days and without medicine, I lay awake in bed, gazing out at the moonlight through the floor–to–ceiling windows.
For a long while, there was silence, making me wonder if the previous nights had been just my imagination or a dream. Late into the night, as I was about to fall asleep, I heard those deeply familiar footsteps.
The room dimmed slightly, and I could smell the woody scent of a man with a hint of cigarette smoke. He never used to smoke. Just as he was about to touch my hand, I opened my eyes, “Bryant, I thought you’d finally decided to stop bothering me.”
The tall figure froze, a mix of surprise and depression in his stance.
Bathed in moonlight, he lowered his head, silent for a while, and spoke in a voice filled with weariness, “I just wanted to see you, to ensure you were alright with my own eyes.”