“Dr. Martinez. What an honour for my humble home!”

  The tone in which the words were spoken was completely at odds with their meaning—Mother’s voice dripped with venom.

  Abigail froze, staring at her. All the words she had prepared while climbing the stairs flew out of her head in an instant.

  “A real doctor, with a degree. Who would have thought? A girl from the slums. My own daughter…”

  The solemnity with which her mother recited these achievements did not deceive Abigail. Something had gone wrong. And it had happened very recently—her mother was still under its fresh impression. Someone had told her about Abigail’s life before Abigail herself had a chance to do so.

  Abigail knew that, above all, she was to blame. For the past few weeks, she had done nothing but postpone the conversation. Not to mention the several years of lies.

  “Isn’t it one of those sappy stories kids are fed on social media—about a poor child who becomes a self-made, money-grubbing creep?”

  “Mom…”

  But her mother had no intention of listening. She hadn’t yet said what she wanted to say.

  “Or maybe it’s another kind of silly story—about a girl, poor but smart, who clung to a wealthy creep and drained him of everything she fancied?”

  “Mom!”

  “What—Mom? Who is this Mom of yours? I told you not to take money from Willowby, didn’t I? But you pretended my words were nothing but the sound of wind in the willow branches!”

  Abigail had no idea what to say. A hollow ringing filled her head. Her insides seemed to curl into a tight knot.

  “It was Willowby who paid for your education, wasn’t it?”

  Abigail closed her eyes and nodded.

  “Willowby,” her mother spat out the name. But then she laughed.

  Abigail opened her eyes and looked at her mother in surprise.

  “I… I can explain.”

  “No.” Her mother raised a hand in a prohibitive gesture. “Do me a favour—keep it to yourself. I’m done.”

  She kicked the suitcase that Abigail had not noticed until then, standing in the dim hallway light.

  “I’ve packed your things. You’re free to go.”

  Abigail stared at the suitcase. Her knees went weak. But suddenly her mind cleared.

  She said in a soft, steady voice,

  “You have every right to be angry with me. But don’t be insane.”

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  “Insane...”

  Her mother gave her a mocking look.

  “I have been insane all these years. But now... It’s finally over.”

  Abigail opened her mouth, but her mother did not let her say a word.

  “You are right, I am angry with you, girl. Why didn’t you tell me right away? I spent so many years of my life on you—I deserved to hear it from you, not from some cop, and definitely not from that bitch Susan.”

  “Did you meet Susan?”

  It was so incredible that Abigail forgot everything else for a moment.

  Mother snorted with disdain.

  “Is she some kind of royalty whom commoners cannot easily meet?”

  Abigail closed her eyes. She couldn’t imagine this scene. But she could imagine what Susan had said to her mother about her.

  “But that’s all right,” Mother pressed on. “Now the timing is perfect: the last Willowby is pushing up daisies now.”

  Her voice was light, almost cheerful. Even the name Willowby did not fill it with the rage and contempt it usually did. That was what frightened Abigail most.

  “Perfect timing for what?” she asked.

  “For freedom!” Mother exclaimed triumphantly. “My daughter has grown up now. Self-sufficient. She could fool her mother for years. She knows how to extract money from rich people. Smart girl! She’ll manage.”

  She pushed the suitcase towards Abigail again and glanced at the door, as if she couldn’t wait to get her daughter out.

  Abigail felt herself boiling up.

  “Okay, I can manage,” she said gloomily. “What about you? Will you manage?”

  After twenty-five years of living together, Abigail still didn’t know how to deal with her mother in moments like this. Her mother’s mind had always been fragile. And now the truth had hit her all at once—Charlie’s death, Abigail’s education... And it was Susan who had revealed it!

  Abigail’s gaze lingered on the suitcase. She was seized by the urge to grab it and run. Instead, she took a deep breath and spoke again, trying to keep her voice steady.

  “Mom, please. I am about to start working at our hospital. Everything will be fine. From now on—no secrets, no lies.”

  And definitely no more Willowby, she added silently.

  But her words did not make the slightest impression on her mother.

  “Oh, please! Cut the nonsense!” she shouted. “Can’t you see? I have been waiting for this day for years! Our agreement is over. I have fulfilled my part. You are an adult. He is deceased. Now give me my life back!”

  What disturbed Abigail most was that her mother spoke in a completely unfamiliar manner. There was neither the usual bitterness nor venom in her voice. She was enlightened. Almost thrilled.

  Was this just another kind of madness?

  “I don’t claim your freedom. You can do what you want. But someone has to pay the bills, right?” Abigail said firmly, as if she were speaking to a patient.

  “Money!” Mrs. Martinez laughed scornfully. “Do you think I need money you drained from your patients?”

  “Don’t you?”

  After all, it was Abigail who had been paying the bills for the last few years. Her mother hadn’t even touched them.

  “I have my own money now,” Mother said. “Save yours for yourself.”

  Abigail didn’t know what to say. Mrs. Martinez stood in front of her with her arms folded across her chest. Abigail unconsciously lowered her gaze to the suitcase standing at her feet.

  “Can I get my things?” she asked.

  “Everything’s already packed.”

  “I’d like to take some of my books.”

  “I put them in. The ones that fit.”

  It was obvious her mother wouldn’t let her go any further. In her mind, Abigail had already been gotten rid of. Now all that remained was for Abigail to make real what had already happened in her mother’s imagination.

  Abigail grabbed the handle of her suitcase.

  “I’ll call you later,” she said.

  “What for?”

  The door closed behind her. The lock clicked.

  She stood there for a moment, breathing in the familiar damp, dusty air of the stairwell. The thought that this was no longer her home filled her with a strange sense of calm. But it wasn’t absolute. Beneath it lurked a thought that made Abigail uneasy.