The hallway is quiet except for the soft hum of fluorescent lights overhead. Marcus walks briskly, heading toward the cafeteria to grab a coffee, but a familiar voice stops him in his tracks.
Monica.
Her tone, sickly sweet, filters through the air from somewhere just ahead. Marcus steps back, pressing himself against the wall, his heartbeat quickening. He edges closer to the corner, straining to hear her words.
“Now that you’re awake, my love, we can start over,” Monica says, her voice dripping with false affection. “With Stacey’s insurance and Jeannette’s estate, we’ll be back on our feet in no time.”
Marcus feels his jaw tighten, anger building in his chest. His fists clench at his sides as her words sink in. Insurance? Estate? The pieces fall into place, each one more damning than the last.
“You can’t say anything,” Monica continues, her voice lowering into a conspiratorial hiss. “If Stacey finds out, she’ll cut us off completely. We have to play this carefully.”
Marcus’s vision blurs with rage, his breath coming faster as he grips the edge of the wall for support. Every instinct screams at him to barge into the room, to confront her, to tear her schemes apart. But he doesn’t move. Instead, he stands frozen, his mind racing with the implications of what he’s just heard.
Monica’s words replay in his head as he forces himself to walk away, his footsteps heavy with suppressed fury. By the time he reaches Stacey’s room, his thoughts are a whirlwind. How could Monica stoop this low? And what would Stacey do if she found out?
He steps inside, carefully smoothing his expression into something neutral. Stacey looks up from her bed, her face lighting up when she sees him.
“Is he awake?” she asks, hope flickering in her eyes.
Marcus hesitates, swallowing down the bitterness rising in his throat. “Yeah,” he says, his voice steady. “He’s awake.”
Her smile widens, relief washing over her features. For a moment, Marcus’s resolve wavers. He wants to tell her everything, to rip the truth out into the open and expose Monica’s betrayal. But the thought of breaking that hopeful expression on Stacey’s face makes his chest ache.
He takes a step closer, his hands in his pockets to keep them from trembling. “Stacey, there’s something—”
The door swings open behind him, cutting him off mid-sentence. Monica enters, her voice bright and cheery, her polished smile in stark contrast to the venom Marcus had overheard moments ago.
“Stacey,” Monica says smoothly, “your dad wants to see you. He’s asking for you.”
Stacey’s face lights up even more, her excitement palpable as she throws off the blanket and swings her legs over the side of the bed.
Marcus steps back, watching her leave the room with Monica trailing behind. His fists clench again, his nails digging into his palms. The moment the door closes, he exhales sharply, the frustration and helplessness boiling over.
He looks around the empty room, his thoughts hardening into resolve. Stacey deserved the truth, but she also deserved to be protected. Even if it meant breaking her heart, Marcus knew what he had to do.
For now, he would wait. But Monica wasn’t going to get away with this. Not if he had anything to say about it.