Idella's old Toyota rattled as it idled in front of the massive, wrought-iron gates of the Fitzgerald estate. The rusted bumper looked like a joke next to the sleek Bentleys and Maybachs parked in the distance.

The security guard inside the booth stared at her through the glass. He picked up his radio, taking a full five minutes to verify her identity, his eyes filled with undisguised contempt. Finally, the heavy gates groaned open.

Idella drove up the meticulously manicured driveway. Her stomach cramped violently, a sharp pain radiating through her abdomen from sheer anxiety and hunger.

She bypassed the main garage and parked in the gravel lot reserved for the maids and landscapers. She pushed the car door open. Dead autumn leaves swirled around her ankles.

She walked quickly through the towering rose maze, heading straight for the main house where Fount's study was located.

A sharp, piercing child's laugh cut through the quiet air.

Idella stopped. She turned her head toward the glass conservatory on the south lawn.

Austin, her nominal son born via surrogate, was running across the grass. He held a massive, expensive water gun, laughing maniacally as he chased a flock of panicked peacocks, shooting them point-blank.

Sitting a few yards away in a white wicker chair was Angelita. Fount's adopted sister, the "charity angel" of Chicago society. She held a bone-china teacup, watching the boy terrorize the birds with a serene, indulgent smile.

Idella's jaw tightened. She changed direction, marching toward the conservatory.

"Austin, stop that right now!" Idella yelled.

Austin caught sight of her out of the corner of his eye. He didn't hesitate. He whipped the heavy water gun around, aimed it directly at Idella, and pulled the trigger.

A freezing blast of water hit Idella squarely in the chest. The icy liquid soaked instantly through her thin trench coat and blouse, chilling her skin to the bone.

Idella gasped, her breath catching in her throat from the shock of the cold.

"Austin!" she demanded, her voice stern. "Put that down!"

Instead of obeying, the five-year-old let out a cruel, mocking laugh.

"Mommy says you're a useless beggar! Go away!" Austin yelled, his face twisting into an ugly sneer.

The words felt like a physical slap. Idella froze. This was the child she had tried to love, the boy she had spent hours reading to when he was a toddler.

Anger flared hot in her chest, overriding the freezing wetness of her clothes. She closed the distance between them in three long strides, snatched the water gun from his hands, and threw it hard onto the grass.

Austin stared at the plastic gun for one second. Then, he opened his mouth and let out a deafening, ear-piercing shriek.

He spun around and sprinted straight into Angelita's arms.

"Mom!" Austin sobbed, burying his face in Angelita's designer dress.

The word hit Idella like a bullet. Mom.

Her pupils dilated. Her heart slammed against her ribs. She stared at the two of them, her mind struggling to process the sound.

Angelita's eyes flickered with a brief flash of panic, but it vanished instantly, replaced by a mask of perfect, maternal concern. She stroked Austin's hair soothingly.

Angelita looked up, her gaze shifting to Idella.

"There is no need to be so aggressive with a child, Idella," Angelita said, her voice soft but laced with heavy accusation.

Idella pointed a trembling finger at the boy. "Why did he just call you Mom?"

Angelita let out a delicate sigh. She looked at Idella with wide, innocent eyes.

"He's confused, Idella," Angelita said smoothly. "Children get their wires crossed when they lack a consistent maternal figure. You've been living in Seattle for work so much... he just clings to whoever is actually here to care for him."

The gaslighting was so intense it made Idella dizzy. Angelita was blaming her for the boy's behavior, twisting the knife of Idella's forced absence.

Idella's hands shook with rage. She wanted to scream, but the exhaustion in her bones weighed her down.

Austin peeked out from Angelita's embrace and stuck his tongue out at Idella, a smug, victorious look in his eyes.

Idella stared at them. The shape of Austin's eyes, the curve of his jaw-they looked exactly like Angelita's. A sickening, absurd thought brushed against the edge of her mind, but she forced it down. Now was not the time. Her mother's life was ticking away.

"Is Fount inside?" Idella asked, her voice dropping to a dead, flat tone.

Angelita smiled, a tiny, victorious upward tilt of her lips. She pointed a manicured finger toward the third floor of the main house, where heavy velvet curtains blocked the windows.

Idella didn't say another word. She turned her back on them, her wet clothes clinging uncomfortably to her skin, and began the heavy walk toward the massive oak doors of the estate.

Idella stood outside the heavy oak door of Fount's private study. She took a deep breath, the cold, wet fabric of her blouse sticking to her ribs, and knocked.

"Come in." The voice was low, entirely devoid of emotion.

Idella pushed the heavy door open. The thick scent of aged bourbon and expensive cigars hit the back of her throat.

Fount stood with his back to her, staring out the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the estate. He wore a custom-tailored black dress shirt. In his right hand, he swirled a crystal glass filled with bourbon and ice. The clinking sound was the only noise in the massive room.

"Fount," Idella said, her voice trembling slightly despite her best efforts to keep it steady.

He didn't turn around.

"Why are you in Chicago during business hours?" Fount asked, his tone icy.

"My mother, Loretta, is in critical condition," Idella said, speaking fast, desperate to get the words out. "She needs an artificial heart valve. The Mayo Clinic needs a two-million-dollar deposit by tomorrow, or they won't operate."

She took a step forward, her wet shoes squeaking slightly on the hardwood floor.

"Susan forced me to sign a resignation letter today," Idella continued, her voice dropping to a plea. "I have nothing left. Fount, please. After three years of marriage, I'm begging you. Just help me."

Fount finally turned around. His cold, calculating eyes swept over her shivering frame, lingering on her soaked clothes and messy hair. A flash of pure disgust crossed his features.

He walked over to his massive mahogany desk and set the glass down.

"The Fitzgerald family does not sponsor charity cases," Fount said evenly. "And I certainly do not throw money into bottomless pits."

The words sliced through her chest.

"Then let me advance the dividends from my trust fund," Idella countered desperately. "The one point seven million in my name. I just need to borrow against it."

Fount let out a short, mocking laugh. He walked around the desk, stopping just inches from her. He towered over her, his presence suffocating.

"That trust was established purely for tax evasion purposes," Fount stated, his voice devoid of pity. "You have zero legal right to liquidate it. You own nothing."

Idella stumbled back a step, her heel catching on the edge of the Persian rug. The prenuptial agreement she had signed-the one he claimed was just a formality to protect her-was a trap.

"What about my patents?" Idella argued, her heart hammering against her ribs. "The targeted therapy research I did in Seattle. That brought the company millions!"

"Company property," Fount interrupted sharply. "You were an employee. A highly replaceable one."

He reached up and adjusted his left cufflink, a gesture he only made when he was deeply annoyed.

"Look at yourself, Idella," Fount sneered, his eyes narrowing. "You are hysterical. You are emotionally unstable. Your white-trash family is dragging you down, and you expect me to clean up your mess."

Tears finally broke free, spilling hot down Idella's cold cheeks.

"Why did you marry me?" she cried out, her voice breaking. "Why did you give me the illusion of a family if you were just going to do this?"

Fount's hand paused on his cufflink. His expression hardened into stone.

"Because you were quiet," Fount said coldly. "You were submissive. You made a perfectly acceptable ornament for the board to look at."

The truth hit her with the force of a physical blow. She felt entirely stripped bare, thrown out into the freezing snow.

Fount turned back to his desk. He opened a drawer, pulled out a leather-bound checkbook, and uncapped a gold fountain pen. He scribbled a number across the paper.

He ripped the check from the book and tossed it. It fluttered through the air, landing on the floor right at Idella's feet.

"One hundred thousand dollars," Fount said, not looking at her. "Consider it funeral expenses. Take it and get off my property."

Idella stared at the piece of paper on the rug. Her stomach churned violently. Bile rose in her throat.

To take that money, she would have to bend down. She would have to bow to him.

She didn't move. She slowly lifted her head. The tears stopped. A new, freezing numbness washed over her.

She bit down on the inside of her cheek until she tasted the sharp, metallic tang of blood.

"I would rather sell my own organs than take a single cent from you," Idella said, her voice dropping to a terrifyingly calm whisper.

Fount scoffed. "You won't last a week without my money."

Idella didn't say another word. She spun around, grabbed the heavy brass handle of the oak door, and yanked it open, fleeing the suffocating room.

Behind her, Fount yanked his tie loose with a frustrated jerk and downed the rest of his bourbon in one swallow.

Idella practically fell down the grand staircase, her vision blurred. She had to find the money. She couldn't let her mother die.

Idella stumbled out of the main house, her legs feeling like lead. The wind whipped across the estate's sprawling gardens, drying the wet patches on her clothes into freezing, stiff patches.

Her mind raced, cycling through loan sharks, payday loans, anything to get the cash.

Suddenly, a high-pitched, agonizing yelp shattered the quiet of the garden.

Idella's heart stopped. The sound came from the direction of the decorative infinity pool. It was Buddy. Her four-year-old Golden Retriever.

She shoved through the perfectly trimmed hedges, thorns tearing at her coat, and sprinted toward the water.

When she broke through the clearing, the blood drained from her face.

Austin was standing at the edge of the deep end. He held a long, thick rose branch covered in sharp thorns. In the water, Buddy was thrashing wildly, his head barely staying above the surface.

Every time the dog tried to paddle toward the tiled edge, Austin swung the thorny branch, jabbing it hard into Buddy's face and paws, pushing him back into the center. A faint trail of red blood swirled in the chlorinated water.

"Stop!" Idella screamed, a raw, guttural sound tearing from her throat.

She lunged at Austin. She grabbed the rose branch with her bare hands. The thick thorns sliced deep into her palms, but she didn't feel the pain. She ripped the branch away and shoved Austin hard by the shoulder.

The boy lost his balance, his expensive sneakers slipping on the wet tiles, and he fell hard onto his backside.

Idella didn't hesitate. She dove straight into the freezing pool.

The icy water shocked her system, but she kicked hard, swimming toward the sinking golden retriever. She grabbed Buddy around the chest. The dog was heavy, his fur waterlogged, his breathing ragged.

Using every ounce of strength she had left, Idella dragged the dog to the edge and heaved him up onto the concrete.

Just as she pulled herself out of the water, a piercing, theatrical wail erupted from Austin. He sat on the tiles, screaming at the top of his lungs.

"Austin!"

Angelita came running from the tea pavilion, her silk dress fluttering. She dropped to her knees, grabbing Austin and frantically checking his arms for injuries that didn't exist. She shot Idella a look of pure, venomous hatred.

Heavy footsteps approached. Fount strode out from the patio, his jaw clenched tight.

"She pushed him!" Angelita cried, her eyes filling with instant tears. "She came out here demanding money, and when she didn't get it, she attacked Austin!"

Idella knelt on the concrete, shivering violently, her arms wrapped around Buddy. Blood dripped from her lacerated palms onto the dog's wet fur.

"He was drowning my dog!" Idella yelled, pointing at the bloody rose branch on the ground.

Fount didn't even glance at the dog. He marched right up to Idella, his shadow falling over her. His eyes were completely devoid of humanity.

"You are out of control," Fount said, his voice a dangerous, low rumble. "You are a violent liability to my family."

"He was torturing an animal!" Idella screamed, her voice cracking.

Fount let out a cold sneer. "No one on this estate will believe the word of a hysterical woman over my heir. I saw you push him."

He leaned down, his face inches from hers.

"Apologize, Idella. Or I will personally call the board of directors at the Mayo Clinic right now. I will inform them that every single cent of the Fitzgerald family's philanthropic donations will be permanently revoked, and I will make sure they understand the endless legal harassment they will face if they keep your mother as a patient. Do you really think they will risk crossing me for a nobody? Your mother will be wheeled out onto the street before sunset."

The threat hit her like a sledgehammer to the base of her skull. All the fight, all the righteous anger, evaporated in an instant. He had her by the throat, and he knew it.

Idella slowly pushed herself up to her feet. Her wet clothes weighed a hundred pounds. She dug her bleeding fingernails deep into her palms, the physical pain grounding her.

She looked at Angelita, who was hiding a smirk behind her hand, and Austin, who was sticking his tongue out again.

Idella bowed her head. The humiliation burned like acid in her throat.

"I'm sorry," she forced the words out of her mouth.

Fount scoffed. He pulled a silk handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his fingers, as if just standing near her had contaminated him. He turned and escorted Angelita and Austin back toward the house.

Idella fell back to her knees beside Buddy. She buried her face in his wet fur. The absolute despair morphed into a hard, freezing knot of hatred in her chest. She would make them pay.