Chapter 4
"You want to do what?" Della looked at me over her coffee mug.
"Visit Becca at the hospital. See what's really going on."
"Mom, that's..." She paused, thinking. "Actually, that's not a terrible idea. But you can't go alone."
"I can handle—"
"No," she said firmly. "If we're doing this, we're doing it together. I want to see where my husband's been sending our money."
Our money. She's right. These payments came from joint accounts, which means part of that money was technically hers too. The woman Dylan treats like a servant has been unknowingly funding his father's secret charity case.
"Besides," Della continued, "I'm better at asking the right questions. Financial due diligence is part of my job."
The oncology ward smelled like disinfectant and false hope. We stopped at the information desk.
"We're here to visit Rebecca Sterling," Della said, sounding more confident than I felt.
"Room 314. Are you family?"
"Close friends," I replied.
We took the elevator to the third floor, but as we headed toward room 314, I heard familiar laughter from the family lounge area.
I froze.
"What is it?" Della whispered.
Through the glass doors, I could see Theo sitting beside a woman with a colorful headscarf. She was laughing at something he said, her hand resting on his arm.
This was Becca Sterling.
"Is that...?" Della began.
"Yes."
We stood there, watching my husband tend to another woman with a gentleness I hadn't seen in years. He was adjusting her blanket, bringing her water, listening to her with complete attention.
When was the last time Theo looked at me like that? When was the last time he anticipated my needs, cared about my comfort? I tried to remember, but came up empty.
"He really cares about her," Della observed quietly.
"Yeah," I said, feeling something crack inside my chest. "He does."
A nurse noticed us standing there.
"Are you here for Becca? She's in the lounge with her friend."
"Friend?" I asked.
"Mr. Morrison. He's been so devoted—comes every week, never misses an appointment. It's rare to see such dedication." The nurse smiled. "Her treatment's been expensive, but he makes sure she has everything she needs. Private rooms, the best medications. She's so lucky to have someone who cares that much."
Della and I exchanged looks.
"How long has she been in treatment?" Della asked.
"Oh, about eight months now. Breast cancer. She had surgery, then chemo, now she's doing reconstruction." The nurse leaned closer, gossipy. "Between you and me, Mr. Morrison is an angel. Most people can't afford the kind of care she's getting."
Angel. Theo, who complained when I wanted to see a specialist for my chronic back pain because it was "probably just stress." Theo, who said we couldn't afford a vacation last year. Theo, who's been an angel to another woman.
"Well," Della said as we walked to the car, "at least we know the money went to actual medical care."
"Sixty-five thousand dollars worth?"
"Cancer treatment is expensive. Especially if she's getting premium care."
I pulled out my phone and googled "breast cancer treatment costs."
"It says here average treatment runs twenty to one hundred thousand depending on insurance and complications."
"So maybe it's legitimate," Della said, but she sounded uncertain.
"Maybe." I started the car but didn't immediately drive away. Instead, I stared at the hospital entrance, thinking.
"Mom? What's bothering you?"
"Remember what the nurse said? Private rooms, best medications, reconstruction surgery."
"Yeah?"
"Remember when I had that kidney stone three years ago? Theo insisted we stick with the standard room because insurance would cover it. And when you had your procedure last year, Dylan wouldn't stop complaining about the copay."
But for Becca, money is no object. Premium everything, private everything. What makes her worth more than his wife? More than his daughter-in-law?
I couldn't sleep that night. I kept thinking about Theo's gentleness with Becca, the nurse calling him an "angel," the expensive cosmetic procedures.
Everything pointed to one conclusion: my husband was in love with another woman. A woman fighting cancer. A woman he was helping in ways he'd never helped me.
Maybe this is what real love looks like. Maybe all these years, I've been settling for duty instead of devotion. Maybe Theo finally found what we never had.
Part of me wanted to hate Becca, but how do you hate a cancer patient? How do you resent someone who's fighting for their life?
Maybe the problem isn't that Theo loves her. Maybe the problem is that he never loved me.
I was beginning to understand why Theo was so devoted to Becca. When facing a disease like cancer, maybe love really does become pure. Until I discovered those other receipts...