Chapter 86
Chapter 2
Chapter 2
I spent the next six months flat on my back.
With both legs shattered, Mom couldn’t drag me out to run scams anymore.
She hired the cheapest unlicensed “doctor” in town.
He did a half-assed job splinting me up, and every day she’d slather my legs with the nastiest discount ointment she could find at the dollar
store.
My legs healed slow. Real slow. And they healed wrong.
Now, every time it rains, this deep, drilling pain shoots through both of them like someone’s twisting a knife in the bone.
Mom spent that fifty grand like it was Monopoly money. New clothes. Tacky jewelry. And she got hooked on poker nights at some sketchy backroom game.
The cash evaporated fast.
And then the panic set in.
“This is YOUR fault,” she hissed one night, jabbing a finger at me. “If you hadn’t been such a little coward, if you hadn’t let that psycho scare you.
we’d still be making bank p>
I sat in my wheelchair by the window, staring out at nothing.
I used to think having both legs broken was rock bottom.
Turns out, she always had a way of dragging me deeper into hell.
And then she found a new “business opportunity p>
There was this rich kid in our apartment complex-Trent Ashford.
Thirteen, maybe fourteen.
Every day, he’d tear through the parking lot on this obnoxiously modded electric scooter, nearly running over pets and little kids.
Everyone hated him. But because his family had money and lawyers, no one dared say a word.
Mom had him in her crosshairs.
“Riley, when that little shit comes through, you’re gonna wheel yourself out there. Got it p>
“Mom, I’m scared…” My hands were white-knuckling the armrests.
“Scared of what?! He hits you, we get a fat settlement! That’s your college fund right there p>
She was painting fairy tales again, like she actually care about my future.
Suddenly, Trent’s scooter came screaming around the corner, bass thumping from a Bluetooth speaker strapped to the handlebars.
Mom shoved me from behind. Hard.
The wheelchair shot forward, straight into his path.
19:49
You Traded Our Son for Her? Your ‘Happy’ Ending Just Crashed, Asshole!
65.9%
Chapter 2
SCREEEECH.
The scooter clipped the wheel.
I went flying, tumbling onto the pavement.
My head cracked against the curb, and blood poured down into my eyes, turning everything red and blurry.
Right on cue, Mom’s wailing started.
“OH MY GOD! HE RAN HER OVER! SOMEONE CALL 911! MY BABY p>
A crowd swarmed in seconds, all of them pointing and yelling at Trent.
The kid looked like he was about to piss himself, just standing there, frozen.
“I-I didn’t mean to p>
“Didn’t MEAN to?! Look at her! She’s already got two broken legs, and now you cracked her skull open! You’re gonna PAY for this p>
A woman in a clean apron pushed through the crowd, trying to help me up.
Mom shoved her back. “We don’t need your fake-ass sympathy! You rich people are all the same-protect your own, screw everyone else p>
The woman blinked, stunned. She looked at me, then back at Mom, and her eyes filled with this heartbreaking mix of pity and sadness.
Her name was Clara Nguyen. She was the Ashfords’ housekeeper.
Trent’s parents showed up within minutes, all apologies and damage control.
“Ma’am, we are so sorry. This is completely unacceptable. Let’s settle this privately-name your price p>
Mom’s eyes lit up like a slot machine.
I lay there on the pavement, listening to the crowd murmur around me.
“Poor kid. She’s got the worst mom p>
“Right? Using her own daughter like a walking ATM p>
“Yeah, but that Ashford kid does need to be knocked down a peg p>
No one asked if I was okay. They just wanted a show.
In the end, Mom walked away with a two hundred thousand dollar settlement.
She wheeled me home humming to herself, practically dancing.
“Riley, you see that? Mommy’s a genius! We just made bank p>
I kept my eyes closed. I didn’t have the energy to speak.
Mom, I thought, if I actually die one day, are you gonna prop up my corpse and sell that too?
Mark Twain