The first day back after the holidays, every employee in the company received a New Year bonus of $888.

Everyone except my mother.

On top of that, she got a notice from HR: a thirty percent pay cut.

My mother told me to let it go. But I was seething.

I marched straight to the CEO's office and demanded to know what the hell was going on.

Prudence Swanson hadn't even opened her mouth before her father slammed his palm on the desk.

"A crippled old hag who can barely walk in a straight line wants a bonus?" Kevin Swanson's voice filled the room. "Know your place. Don't you dare compare your mother to everyone else."

"Let me spell it out for you—if it weren't for Prue, I wouldn't have let that woman through the front door."

Prudence waved her hand, irritation plain on her face.

"Rudolph Dickerson, my father's made himself clear. What he says goes for me too."

"Go back to work."

"And those orders from Aurum Holdings and Crestworth Industries—stay on top of them."

I pressed my lips together. The silence stretched.

Then I spoke.

"Prudence. My mother and I quit."

"And I want a divorce."

——

She froze. The disbelief on her face was absolute.

I turned and walked toward the door. My steps were steady.

Behind me came Kevin's cold laugh. "Rudolph, is this your idea of a tantrum?"

"Fine. Walk out. I'd love to see how many days you last."

His voice rose, dripping with the certainty of a man who'd never been told no.

"Who do you think you are? A salesman. That's all you've ever been. Without Prue, you think you'd have that title? You think you'd have earned a single one of those commissions?"

"And your mother."

"A lame old woman. Where else is she going to find work?"

I didn't look back. I pushed through the door and let it close behind me.

The hallway was quiet. Every word he'd said replayed in my head, one after another.

It wasn't anger. It was something duller than that—a blunt, grinding ache, like someone sawing through bone with a dull blade.

"Rudolph!"

Prudence came after me. Her heels struck the floor in a sharp, uneven rhythm.

She grabbed my arm. Her grip was stronger than I expected.

"Stop right there."

"What's gotten into you? You know how my father is. He runs his mouth—you've never taken it seriously before. Why now?"

I looked at her face. Said nothing.

My silence unsettled her. Her tone softened a fraction. "Look, just go back to work. The bonus—I'll have someone send one to your mother later. Okay? Is that enough?"

I reached down and peeled her fingers off my arm, slowly, one by one.

"Don't bother."

She blinked. Her brows drew together. "Rudolph, what is this? Over a bonus? You're going to blow things up with my father over a bonus? Is it really worth it?"

"You were never like this. He's said worse, and you always just laughed it off."

"What's different about today?"

I stopped walking.

She stood two paces behind me, slightly out of breath. Confusion and impatience fought for control of her expression.

She genuinely didn't understand.

"You're right," I said, my voice even. "Before, I swallowed everything. He called me useless. Said I married above my station. Said my whole family owed him. I laughed it off every single time."

"But today."

"He went after my mother."

She had nothing to say to that.

I looked at her, and something shifted. She felt like a stranger.

All these years of marriage, I thought I knew her. But back in that office, she'd sat there and watched her father humiliate my mother without a single word of protest.

All she did was wave her hand, annoyed.

Like she was shooing away a dog.

I turned and walked away. This time, I didn't look back.

As the elevator doors slid shut, I caught one last glimpse of her through the narrowing gap—still standing in the same spot, her expression too far away to read.

The cold wind cut through my collar the moment I stepped out the front doors.

I looked up at the twenty-something-story office tower. The gilded sign blazed against the overcast sky, almost offensively bright.

Grandwell Group. The Swanson family's empire.

Prudence was the president. I'd worked here for five years, climbing from the lowest rung of the sales team all the way up to supervisor.

My father-in-law's company, his son-in-law on the payroll. To outsiders, it looked like a double stroke of luck.

Only I knew what those five years had really cost me.

I took a cab to the apartment my mother rented. When I pushed open the door, she was busy in the kitchen.

The tiny place was filled with the warm smell of cooking oil and spices.

It smelled like childhood.

"Sweetheart, you're here!" She turned and smiled at me. "Off work early today? Perfect timing. I made braised ribs, your favorite."

I stood in the doorway, watching her.

She wore the same old padded jacket, washed so many times it had faded almost white, with a floral apron tied around her waist. Her left hand braced against the edge of the stove, her body tilting slightly to the right.

Her bad left leg couldn't bear weight for long.

"Mom." My throat tightened. "Stop what you're doing for a minute. Come sit down. I need to talk to you about something."

She glanced at me. Her hands went still.

Then she turned off the burner, wiped her hands on her apron, and made her way out slowly.

"What's wrong?" She sat down, a trace of worry already creeping across her face. "Did something happen?"

I sat across from her.

"I quit my job."

She froze.

"And there's more."

"I asked Prudence for a divorce."

The expression on her face locked in place.

A long moment passed before her lips moved. "W-why? Did I do something wrong? Did I upset the Swansons?"

"No."

"It has to be that!"

She cut me off, dropping her gaze. Her rough, work-worn hands twisted together in her lap.

"I know it's my fault. I must not have done the work well enough."

"They had me cleaning the house, and with my bad leg, I'm sure I missed things."

"Son, go back and apologize to them for me. Tell them I'll do better from now on, I'll work harder..."

"Mom!"

My voice came out louder than I intended.

She looked up. Her eyes were already rimmed with red.

I drew a deep breath and forced my voice level. "Mom, this isn't about you. It has nothing to do with you."

She didn't believe me. She kept her head down, still murmuring under her breath.

"It's my fault. It has to be..."

Looking at her like that, it felt like a fist was squeezing my heart.

Last spring, my mother had called to say her left leg was acting up again.

She'd brushed it off on the phone. Said it was nothing, that a few days of rest would fix it.

I didn't buy it. I drove back to our hometown to check on her and found her limping badly with every step.

When I asked why she hadn't told me sooner, she just smiled and said she didn't want to interfere with my work.

I'd just been promoted to sales supervisor at the time, and I was swamped. That part was true.

I insisted on bringing her to Riverside City so I could take care of her.

She refused. Said she'd only be a burden.

I told her she was my mother, and there was no such thing as a burden.

She finally agreed.

Kevin hadn't said anything at first. His expression soured, but he kept his mouth shut.

That lasted exactly two days. Then he spoke up, right in front of me and right in front of my mother.

"Rudolph."

He leaned back on the sofa, one leg crossed over the other, a cigarette dangling from his lips.

"Now, in principle, having your mother stay with the family is perfectly reasonable."

"But you know how it is. Prue grew up sheltered, used to a certain lifestyle. Her day-to-day habits might not exactly line up with her mother-in-law's."

"As her father, I've got to look out for my little girl."

My mother had been holding a glass of water. Her hand went still.

"A few days is fine, but the longer it goes on, the more friction there'll be." He exhaled a stream of smoke. "Better to sort it out before feelings get hurt. Don't you think... she should find her own place?"

My mom didn't say a word.

I opened my mouth to speak, but she pressed my hand and smiled. "Your father-in-law is right. Living together really isn't practical. I'll rent a place of my own. It'll be more comfortable that way."

That afternoon, she went out looking for an apartment.

I watched her drag that bad leg from one listing to the next, asking at every door, and my chest ached so badly I could barely breathe.

She was the one who ended up comforting me. "Don't worry about it. I'll find somewhere close by. I can still come over and cook for you two."

Later, Prudence mentioned that the office janitor had quit. My mom had nothing to do anyway, so why not let her take the job?

I refused on the spot.

But my mom went behind my back and accepted.

She smiled when she told me. "Sitting around doing nothing isn't my style. Every little bit of money helps."

"Besides, it's your in-laws' company. Me working there is just another way of supporting you two."

I knew what she was really doing. She was trying to win Prudence over. Trying to win the whole Swanson family over.

For more than six months, she left before dawn and came home after dark. Sweeping floors, wiping down the break room, hauling out trash.

Twenty-eight hundred dollars a month. The lowest salary in the entire company.

She never once said she was tired. Every time I went to see her, she greeted me with that same warm smile, asking if I'd eaten, if I was worn out, if Prudence was treating me well.

One evening I went to pick her up after work. I found her crouched on the break room floor, wiping a water stain with a rag, inch by inch.

A few young employees stood nearby chatting. Their feet were inches from where she'd just cleaned. They walked right through it, leaving dirty shoe prints across the wet tile.

She didn't make a sound. She waited until they left, then crouched back down and started over.

I stood in the doorway, eyes stinging.

All of it. Every last moment, piling up in my head, one after another.

"Mom." I took her hand. "Listen to me. None of this is your fault. I'm the one who failed you."

She lifted her face, and the tears finally fell.

"Son, don't do this for my sake..."

"It's not for you." I cut her off. "It's for me."

I stared out the window at the overcast sky, my voice barely above a whisper.

"I'm done swallowing it."

The truth was, the Swanson family never thought much of me, not even when Prudence and I first started dating.

The first time I went to their house for dinner, Kevin didn't look at me once. Not a single glance from start to finish.

I'd brought cigarettes, a bottle of good liquor, a tin of premium tea. He had the housekeeper put it all away. He didn't open any of it.

At the table, he spoke only to Prudence. Asked about the company, asked which executives she'd been dining with lately. I might as well have been a piece of furniture.

Prudence told me afterward, "That's just how my dad is. Don't take it personally."

And I didn't.

I was too young back then. I believed that as long as two people loved each other, nothing else mattered.

Kevin didn't come to the wedding.

We held the ceremony in Riverside City. The Swansons booked half a hotel, dozens of tables packed with guests, the whole place buzzing with noise and celebration.

Prudence stood beside me in her wedding gown, smiling so beautifully it almost didn't seem real.

During the toasts, someone asked her where her father was.

She explained that he was out of town, tied up with a major deal he couldn't walk away from.

I found out later there was no deal. The company had nothing going on during that stretch.

He simply didn't want to come.

Because of me. Because his son-in-law wasn't worth showing up for his only daughter's wedding.

That night, after the last guests were gone, Prudence sat on the hotel bed still in her full makeup, eyes rimmed red.

I walked over and held her. She said she was sorry.

I told her it was fine.

And I meant it. I genuinely believed it was fine.

It was just a wedding, right?

We had a whole lifetime ahead of us. Sooner or later, I'd make him see me differently.

To prove myself, I quit my job.

I'd been doing well, too. A good position at a publicly traded company.