Her subconscious question was another brutal blow to Baillie’s already shattered pride.

He felt a wave of humiliation wash over him. “Forget it. Don’t worry about it,” he said coldly, and hung up.

Ivy stared at the disconnected call, her face grim.

“What happened?” Jamison asked.

“He asked for twenty thousand. I was so surprised I just repeated it, and he hung up,” Ivy murmured. “If he can’t even get his hands on twenty thousand, he really must have hit rock bottom.”

“Do you want to go see them? I can have someone find out which hospital they’re at.”

Ivy nodded. “Okay, find out where they are.” She might as well go see for herself just how bad things had gotten.

Jamison made a quick call, and within fifteen minutes, he had an answer. “They’re at Cedar Ridge Medical Center. It’s the closest one to where it happened.”

“Alright, let’s go.”

They bundled up in heavy coats, Jamison carefully wrapping a scarf around Ivy’s neck before they headed out.

The pre-holiday traffic was a nightmare. It took them an hour to get to the hospital. They found Rosetta sitting alone in the emergency room. She was still well-dressed, probably in clothes from her former life, but her hair was grayer, and the lines on her face were deeper. Maintaining a youthful appearance costs money, and with the family bankrupt and homeless, there was no money for beauty treatments. The sudden halt to her routine had caused her to age rapidly.

She was in a wheelchair, with scrapes on her face and hands. Her legs were covered by her pants, but the wheelchair suggested they were injured as well.

Ivy paused for a moment, then continued toward her.

Rosetta had been staring blankly at the floor, but as Ivy approached, she slowly looked up. Her eyes, which had been dull and lifeless, slowly focused.

“Ivy…” she whispered, her eyes instantly filling with tears. “You… you still remember me… I was wrong, Ivy. I was so, so wrong. I’m so sorry for how I treated you. Please, you have to help your brother… The debt collectors… they’re going to drive him to his death…”

Rosetta’s sobs drew stares from the people around them. Ivy didn’t want to cause a scene, but she didn’t know how to respond to her mother’s tearful apology and desperate plea.

“Where’s Baillie?” she asked quietly.

“He went to pay the bill. The doctor said my leg needs a cast… but I don’t think he has any money. He’s been gone for over half an hour…” Rosetta choked out, looking at her daughter as if she were a savior.

Ivy didn’t reply. She turned and headed for the billing office. Jamison stayed right beside her, his hand protectively on her shoulder in the crowded corridor.

Rosetta watched them go, the jealousy she once felt replaced by a profound, all-consuming regret.

Ivy reached the billing office, but Baillie was nowhere to be seen.

“You don’t think he just abandoned his own mother and ran, do you?” Jamison wondered aloud.

Ivy glanced at him. She didn’t answer, because she was thinking the exact same thing.

“Let’s look around for him,” she said.

They found him in a stairwell, hunched over his phone, his voice a low, desperate plea as he tried to borrow money.

It was clear from his expression that he was having no luck. He scrolled through his contacts and tried another number, but it went straight to voicemail. Everyone knew the Windsor family was bankrupt and drowning in debt. Asking for a loan was just asking for a lecture. He made call after call, but either no one answered, or they cursed him out. Even his own relatives refused to lend him a cent.

He looked nothing like the proud, arrogant man he had once been. He was a broken, pathetic shell. As he was about to dial another number, Ivy spoke. “You can stop now. Give me the bill.”

She held out her hand.

Baillie’s head snapped up. His face went through a rapid succession of emotions: shock, surprise, shame, and finally, a deep, crushing humiliation. In the past, he would have sneered, would have rather died than accept her help. But now, reality had set in, and his pride was a luxury he could no longer afford.

After a moment’s hesitation, he handed her the bill.

Ivy took it and walked back to the billing office. Jamison followed, a silent, supportive presence.

After the bill was paid, they returned to the emergency room. The pain in Rosetta’s fractured foot had intensified, and her face was drained of all color. When she saw them return, her face lit up with a mixture of relief and hope, and she grabbed her son’s arm.

Baillie couldn’t bring himself to look at Ivy. “I’m taking Mom to get her X-ray and cast,” he mumbled.