His brows knotted tighter, the impatience on his face sharper now.
He stepped toward me again, his voice carrying one last half-hearted attempt at coaxing:
"Willow, stop being stubborn. I can give you money, give you a life a hundred times better than killing yourself at some job. I'll handle things with Zelda. You won't be mistreated."
"She runs the house. You stay outside it. Nobody crosses the line."
I laughed. At myself, for being so blind.
"What I want, you can't afford."
Drew said nothing. He walked to my nightstand and laid a bank card down like he was settling a tab.
"Think it over. There's three million on that card. Once you've come around, I'll give you the PIN."
I was packing when the phone cut through everything—sharp, insistent. Grandma Charity's number.
Dread hit me before I even answered.
"Willow? It's Uncle Ferris."
"Your grandma collapsed. Acute leukemia. The surgery alone is over three million. What are we going to do?"
"I've got eighty thousand saved up, that's my funeral money, it won't last her a week."
Grandma raised me. She was everything I had.
I looked at the bank card on the table. Then I lowered my head.
"Don't panic, Uncle Ferris. I'll figure something out."