Chapter 3 - The Gilded Trap
Abigail returned to the hospital the next afternoon,
wearing a mask of perfect,
shattered grief.
She walked into Room 12,
her eyes red from intentional rubbing.
Spencer was lying in bed,
his face pale—likely from makeup,
she realized now.
“Oh,
Spencer,”
she sobbed,
rushing to his side.
“The doctors told me you’re getting worse.”
Spencer took her hand,
his grip firm despite his supposed weakness.
“I’m scared,
Mom,”
he whimpered,
playing his part with sickening precision.
“Dr. Thorne says there’s one last chance,
but it’s expensive.”
Abigail squeezed his hand,
feeling a surge of disgust.
“Money is no object now,
my sweet boy,”
she whispered.
“I have a secret.
I didn't want to tell you until I was sure.”
Spencer’s eyes lit up,
a predatory glint he couldn’t quite hide.
“What is it?”
“I won,”
she lied,
leaning closer.
“Not the jackpot,
but a significant prize.
Three million dollars.”
She saw him swallow hard,
his mind clearly racing.
“Three million?”
he repeated,
his voice trembling with greed.
“Yes,”
Abigail said,
wiping a fake tear.
“I’m going to use every cent to save you.
I’ll sign the papers for the surgery today.”
She watched as he struggled to maintain his "sick" persona.
“You’re the best,
Mom,”
he said,
his voice dripping with false affection.
“I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“I know,”
she replied,
her heart turning to stone.
She left the room and headed straight to Dr. Thorne’s office.
The doctor was waiting for her,
a sympathetic smile plastered on his face.
“Mrs. Riley,
I heard the good news about your…
sudden windfall,”
Thorne said,
gesturing for her to sit.
Abigail sat down,
placing her purse on the desk.
Inside the purse was a recording device,
connected directly to Marcus and the private investigators.
“I’ll pay whatever it takes,
Doctor,”
she said,
sounding desperate.
“But I need to know the surgery will work.”
“It’s a high-risk procedure,”
Thorne said,
leaning back in his chair.
“But with the right funding,
we can bring in the best surgeons.
I’ll need a deposit of five hundred thousand dollars by tomorrow morning.”
“I can do that,”
Abigail said,
her voice steady.
“But I want to see the medical charts one more time.
I want to understand exactly what is happening to my son’s heart.”
Thorne hesitated,
his eyes flickering with a moment of doubt.
“Of course,”
he said,
shuffling some papers.
“But you wouldn't understand the technical jargon,
Abigail.”
“Try me,”
she insisted,
leaning forward.
As Thorne began to weave his web of medical lies,
Abigail felt a strange sense of clarity.
She was watching a predator at work,
unaware that he had already stepped into a cage.
She signed the "consent forms" Thorne pushed across the desk,
knowing they were legally worthless because Marcus had already filed a preemptive injunction.
When she left the office,
she felt a surge of adrenaline.
She spent the rest of the day with Marcus,
reviewing the recordings and the evidence Naomi had provided.
They had records of the secret bank accounts,
the casino debts,
and the forged medical degrees.
“We have enough to put them away for a long time,”
Marcus said,
looking at the mountain of evidence.
“But I want the grand finale,”
Abigail said,
her voice cold.
“I want them to think they’ve won.
I want to see the look on Spencer’s face when the curtain falls.”
She went home and looked at the lottery ticket again.
Twenty million dollars.
It was no longer just money.
It was the power to rewrite her story.
She realized that she had been a prisoner of her own love for thirty-four years.
But today,
the cell door was open.
May you like
She slept soundly for the first time in months,
knowing that the next day would be the last day of the lie.
