Chapter 2: Shattered Trust

Mr. Sanders snapped. His voice shook, then turned sharp.

He shouted, “This heartless, ungrateful brat!”

His words cut through the air, loud enough for Rachel to flinch even from across the room.

She froze, pen midair. The anger in her father’s voice knocked her off balance.

She stormed over, grabbed my phone, and yelled, “Who are you calling a brat? Shameless old man—you can’t pay your wife’s hospital bills, and now you yell at me? I’m not lending you a thing!”

Her voice cracked, shrill and shaky. Years of tension boiled over in a single explosion.

She hurled my phone at the tile. The screen shattered, the sound echoing through the sticky kitchen.

I scrambled to pick it up, but it was dead—our only connection to the hospital, gone in an instant.

Rachel shook with rage. “That old man thinks he can just yell at me—what a joke.”

She paced the kitchen, fists clenched, face red. The tension was thick enough to choke on.

Her phone rang—a familiar old country tune she’d set for her dad. The irony wasn’t lost on me.

On the screen, the word 'Dad' flashed. The phone buzzed against the counter.

She picked up and sneered, “Still want to call and yell at me?”

She hit decline, dismissing the call like it was nothing. No remorse—just ice in her eyes.

She turned to me, voice cold. “He started it. I’m not lending anything. Go ask your own family. Stay away from my wedding fund.”

She hugged the phone to her chest, daring me to push her.

I broke down. “How can you just walk away? That’s your own mom in the hospital. Isn’t there a law about this?”

Desperation colored my voice. I’d seen stories on the news—kids getting in trouble for abandoning parents. I couldn’t believe we were here.

She shot back, “Don’t threaten me with the law. We only had a wedding party—we haven’t signed the marriage certificate. I’m not legally responsible for your family. Push me, and I’ll leave—and you’ll never see that wedding fund again.”

Her words were icy, like she’d practiced this speech a hundred times.

I was stunned. “Are you serious? That’s your own mom!”

She hesitated for just a second, then sneered, “Now you’re making stuff up to make me pay? If it was my mom, do you think my dad would ever call me a brat?”

She narrowed her eyes, suspicion flickering. She’d built a wall I couldn’t break through.

I couldn’t take it anymore. I knew the debit card PIN. I grabbed the card and dashed for the door.

I moved fast, fueled by panic and frustration. My mind raced—this couldn’t be happening.

Rachel lunged, grabbing for the card. I wouldn’t let go, so she bit my arm, hard.

Pain shot through me—sharp, shocking. I let go. I stared at the red mark, the betrayal hurting more than the bite.

She clutched the card, backing into a corner behind the armchair, wild-eyed and breathing hard.

She glared at me, voice thick with accusation. “Now you’re trying to steal the wedding fund. Would you be this desperate if it was my mom?”

I raised my hands. “If you don’t believe me, call your parents and ask.”

She clutched the card tighter, eyes darting. “You think I’m stupid? If I call, they’ll side with you and guilt-trip me too. You can’t say a word.”

Suddenly, she grabbed a pair of scissors from the drawer, aiming at the debit card.

“Don’t!” I shouted, lunging forward. She pointed the scissors at me, daring me to try.

I pleaded, “If you cut that card, we can’t get to the money tonight. It’s not linked to online banking yet.”

She shrugged. “Maybe I should. When he called me a brat, he should’ve known better.”

I was desperate. “That’s your dad.”

She screamed, “He’s not my dad! Just a greedy old man trying to scam my wedding fund. And you—you’re no better.”

With a snap, she cut the card in half. The pieces clattered to the floor. Something inside me broke, too.

I sank onto the sofa, numb. The world felt like it was closing in.

I muttered, “It’s over. It’s all over.”

Rachel snorted, wrapping herself in a blanket. “Go to the hospital if you want. I’m not going. Doctors are required to save patients, you know.”

She scrolled through her phone like nothing had happened. I stared, furious and stunned.

I tried again, voice small. “Without money, the hospital can only do so much. Without the right drugs or equipment, she could die.”

Rachel shrugged. “Then go borrow from your family. And I’m not signing that marriage certificate.”

She tossed her phone on the table, ignoring the buzzing notifications.

I was speechless. The woman I’d planned to marry was willing to walk away over money. The future I’d imagined crumbled to dust.

She wouldn’t sign the certificate, but still wanted me to find money for her mom? The contradiction made my head spin.

“Why not sign?” I asked, searching her face.

She looked away. “Who knows how much this will cost? I’m not getting stuck with your debt. I’d rather walk away now.”

Her words left scars. “I’m not sacrificing my life for your family’s problems.”

I broke down. “How does saving your mom ruin your life?”

She placed a hand on my shoulder, steadying herself. “Mom’s old. Sometimes you just have to let go.”

I stared at her, disbelief washing over me.

She continued, “Let’s be real. It’ll cost hundreds of thousands, right? What about our future kids? Should we risk their future for one emergency?”

Her logic was cold, her words robotic. I hesitated, doubts gnawing at me.

Then she added, “If it goes over three hundred grand, I’m out. We’re not married yet—let’s just call it off.”

The number echoed in my mind. Was that what a life was worth?

I gasped, the reality sinking in. What was left for me if I lost everything tonight?

Just then, her phone buzzed again, lighting up the living room with its glow. Mr. Sanders’s texts popped up, filled with curses and threats. Rachel scrolled, her hands trembling.

“You ungrateful brat, you took three hundred thousand in wedding fund and won’t save your mom.”

Another message. “You’re acting like a total stranger—like you don’t even have a heart. Even family shouldn’t need an IOU.”

And finally: “Transfer the money or I’ll come get it myself.”

Rachel didn’t bother opening them, just showed me the notifications. “See? He’s threatening me now.”

I tried to defend him. “He’s just desperate.”

She shook her head. “Not my dad. Not anymore.”

She tossed the phone aside, arms crossed, chin up.

I could see Mr. Sanders’s desperation. I asked, “Can I use your phone to reach my own family?”

She shrugged. “Whatever. But remember, we’re not married. If you rack up debt, don’t drag me down with you.”

I nodded and searched her contacts for her best friend’s number. My hands shook as I dialed.

Rachel snatched the phone away. “Who are you calling?”

“My best friend,” I said, but she was already furious.

“Are you nuts? Don’t drag my friends into this. Use your own people.”

She blocked the door, arms crossed.

I gestured to the broken phone. “You smashed mine.”

She snapped, “How can you be so shameless?”

I stared at her, disbelief knotting in my stomach. How could someone ignore their own mom in the hospital and call me shameless?