Late that night, pain in my ribs kept me awake. From the living room, I heard voices. I pressed my ear to the door.
“Don’t worry, she loves me. She’ll believe whatever I say,” Daniel whispered gently. “Once she gets her worker’s compensation, we’ll have more money again.”
The next morning, Daniel threw a document onto my chest.
“Sign it. The company added another $30,000 in worker’s comp. The recipient’s name is already mine.”
I stared at the paper, a suffocating sense of injustice rising in me.
“About that accident three years ago—I have witnesses who can prove it wasn’t me who hit Chloe.”
Daniel sneered.
“Evidence? Chloe says it was you. That’s enough. Do your witnesses matter more than her words?”
His eyes held no guilt, only the arrogance of entitlement. I clenched my fists until my nails dug into my palms.
“Meow—”
My cat, Muffin, ran out from the balcony, meowing at Chloe.
Chloe instantly clutched her chest, coughing weakly. “Daniel, this cat…”
“Muffin!” Daniel grabbed the cat I had raised for five years and dragged him to the balcony, slamming the door shut.
“Daniel, what are you doing?” I rushed to open the door, but he shoved me aside.