When a Life Is Worth Only 100 Bucks

As I stared fixedly at the screen of my phone, a scene from years ago popped into my head. I remembered the way Alicia had cried at Dad's funeral and promised him she would take care of me for the rest of my life in his place.

I could still remember the light in her eyes back then, but the light now shone on someone else.

It was as if my phone had turned into a pile of bricks. I could barely hold onto it.

With shaky fingers, I checked the comments on the post. I wanted to write something, but all I managed to type was a string of gibberish.

Her second last post had been a photo of her and Randall holding glasses of red wine. The caption read, "Cheers to not spending 100 dollars on a cab."

It was posted on the same day that Mom was killed, after the ransom deadline passed.

Out of nowhere, I let out a hollow laugh that seemed to have been squeezed out of my chest by force. My fingers almost bore into the screen as I typed out, "That strapped for cash, huh? I'll give you an extra 200 dollars in the divorce, then. You don't need to thank me."

Immediately, my phone began vibrating. As soon as I took the call, Alicia screamed at me, "Gregory! What the hell is wrong with you? Delete that comment now! How can you throw the word divorce around like it's nothing?"

I looked at Mom's portrait in the funeral parlor and snorted. "What's the matter? Is 200 too little for you? I'll make sure you get a bit more in the divorce settlement then."

I couldn't be bothered to say another word to her, so I turned my phone off.

…

After signing the divorce agreement, I stuffed it into an envelope, along with the deed to the house.

The marital home we shared had once been filled with our memories, but now, it only held the neatly stacked cardboard boxes in the middle of the living room.

I didn't take a single thing with me.

I devoted all my time to organizing the evidence for Mom's case, repeatedly checking every testimony and every photo. I swore to file a lawsuit with the Fangorian court to seek justice on Mom's behalf. I would make sure her killers were punished for their crimes.

As I drove back to my family's old house, the scenery along the way felt impossibly familiar.

My parents had been extremely reluctant to sell this place. Every brick and tile of the old house symbolized their hard work.

To save up money to buy the land, Dad spent three straight years sleeping only four hours a day. Mom insisted on working alongside the construction crew even when she was pregnant just to save on some labor costs.

Dad's painting of us as a family still hung on the living room wall, though the paint had faded a little. I could almost see him standing on the ladder, carefully hanging it up.

I'd just turned into the village when Aunt Sharon called.

"Greg! You need to hurry back right away! Alicia brought a man to the old house, and she says she wants to sell it off!"

When I rushed into the compound, Randall stood there with one arm wrapped around Alicia's waist.

"Once you sell off this shabby dump, Alicia, it'll be just about enough to cover my debts. If there's any money left over, you can use it to start a business."

He nudged her cheek, saying affectionately, "You should stop working as a special forces soldier. It's so dangerous."

Alicia melted into his arms, nuzzling against him like a kitten. "Whatever you say, Randy."

I marched up to her and snatched the sales agreement contract away in one swift motion, my knuckles turning white.

"Alicia! What right do you have to sell my family's old house?"

"Gregory? What are you doing here?" Alicia raised her eyebrows in surprise before scoffing. "How dare you have the audacity to question me? I haven't even confronted you about the divorce yet!"

Randall immediately stepped forward and chimed in with faux concern, "Gregory, didn't your mom get kidnapped? I'm shocked to see that you can still come here and make a scene over the house."

With an exaggerated sigh, he added, "If we'd only just gathered the ransom money sooner, maybe Mrs. Kane could've been saved earlier. But thankfully, the rescue—"