Two Hundred Debts, One Final Goodbye

From the age of ten, every dollar my parents spent on me became a debt. Tuition. Clothes. Food. Even medical bills. By eighteen, I had signed one hundred and ninety-nine promissory notes. But Camilla—the daughter of the man who died protecting my parents—received everything for free. They gave her my bedroom, my inheritance bracelet, a Manhattan apartment, a Maserati, and eventually even the attention of my fiancé, Nick. My parents called it repaying her father’s sacrifice. They called my suffering “heir training.” On the eighteenth birthday Camilla and I shared, I was seriously injured in a car accident. While my family celebrated her aboard a Caribbean yacht, I begged them for three thousand dollars to pay for emergency surgery. They accused me of inventing the accident to ruin her party. Then Mom told me to sign another promissory note. That became number two hundred. I finally understood that no amount of obedience would make them choose me. So I gave myself seven days to repay every cent, surrender the DeLuca name, and end my engagement. Chapter 1 When I returned to the DeLuca estate after leaving the hospital, no one was home. My parents had taken Camilla to the Caribbean for her eighteenth birthday, and the staff had been given the day off after spending a week preparing for the celebration. The house was dark. Supporting myself against the foyer wall, I listened to each limping step echo across the marble. I had expected the silence. It still hurt. My injured right leg barely supported me, and every step pulled at the sutures. Gripping the banister, I climbed to the smallest room at the end of the hall. My bedroom. Eight years earlier, when Camilla’s nightmares kept her awake, I had given her the bright bedroom beside my parents’ suite and moved into this converted storage room. Mom had kissed my forehead. “Audrey, you are the most understanding daughter a mother could ask for.” Dad had said a DeLuca should always be kind and strong. They promised I could have my room back once Camilla recovered. Eventually, her nightmares stopped. Their promise was never mentioned again. My room held only a narrow bed, an old wardrobe, and a wooden desk with cracked edges. I owned so little that packing would not take long. I opened the desk drawer. Inside were all the promissory notes I had signed since I was ten. Dad said Marco’s death meant our family owed Camilla a lifetime of care. I was different. As a DeLuca by blood, every dollar spent on me was considered part of my heir training—an obligation I would repay once I turned eighteen. Tuition. Textbooks. School uniforms. Medical expenses. I removed the notes one at a time. One.Two.Three. Including the one I had signed for my surgery, there were exactly two hundred. The largest was for three thousand dollars. The rest ranged from a few dozen dollars to several hundred. Altogether, I owed eighteen thousand dollars. Less than the diamond bracelet Camilla had worn to her birthday party. I stacked the notes and placed them in my canvas bag. As I started downstairs, the front door opened. My parents and Camilla had returned. “Dad, I’m craving Audrey’s apple pie,” Camilla said, linking her arm through his. “Will you ask her to make one for me?” Vincent patted her hand. “If your sister were half as thoughtful as you, she wouldn’t have deliberately missed your birthday celebration. When she finally comes home, I’ll have her bake it for you.” I stood on the landing and almost laughed. After the accident, I had called them more than a dozen times. When they finally answered, I told them I needed emergency surgery at the county hospital. They decided I had invented the accident because I was jealous of Camilla’s yacht party. Dad had scolded me over the phone. “Marco will never see his daughter become an adult. Why can’t you let Camilla have this one day?” They had forgotten that Camilla and I shared the same birthday. She was not the only one who had turned eighteen. Mom entered the foyer first and noticed me on the stairs. Her smile faltered as she took in my pale face and the hand gripping the banister. “Audrey?” She stepped toward me. “Why are you so pale?” Before I could answer, Camilla lowered her eyes. “She must still be angry about my party. This is my fault. If I hadn’t celebrated my birthday, she wouldn’t have disappeared.” Mom stopped. The concern in her eyes faded into resignation. “Audrey, we already explained this. Camilla’s eighteenth birthday meant something to the entire DeLuca family because Marco could not be here to see it. You are our biological daughter. We will have plenty of other occasions to celebrate you. Why must everything become a competition?” Dad saw me clinging to the banister but mistook my silence for defiance. “Enough. Camilla wants your apple pie. Go make it, and we’ll put this nonsense behind us.” To him, it was only a dessert. If I obeyed, Camilla would be happy and peace would return. No one thought the request was unfair. I was their biological daughter—a DeLuca. That meant I was always the one expected to give way. Chapter 2 Apple pie. To most people, it was only a family dessert. To me, it was a six-year punishment. I first made it for Mom’s fortieth birthday. I was twelve, and she often talked about the apple pie my grandmother used to bake in Sicily. I practiced with our cook for a week. I peeled so many apples that I cut my fingers twice, and hot sugar blistered my hand. Following my grandmother’s recipe, I added a little lemon juice to keep the apples from browning. When I carried the pie into the dining room, Mom’s face lit up. She had just lifted her fork when Camilla said softly, “It smells wonderful. My dad used to make apple pie for my birthday.” The dad she meant was Marco—the man who had died protecting our family. Mom immediately pushed the untouched pie toward her. “Then it’s all yours tonight.” She stroked Camilla’s hair. “Whenever you miss something from your old life, you can tell me.” The gift I had spent a week preparing became proof that Camilla belonged in our family. Mom never tasted it. Camilla took several bites. Then her face reddened, and she began struggling to breathe. My parents rushed her to the hospital. I sat alone at the dining table until after midnight, staring at the half-eaten pie and wondering what I had done wrong. When they returned, Camilla was curled against Mom’s chest. The moment she saw me, she whispered, “Please don’t blame Audrey. She probably didn’t know I was allergic to lemons.” Mom’s expression changed. She crossed the room and slapped me. “Why didn’t you tell us there was lemon in the pie?” “No one told me she was allergic.” “You should have asked,” Dad said coldly. “You’re a DeLuca. You’re supposed to think before your actions put someone in danger.” After that, whenever Camilla wanted apple pie, my parents made me bake it as a lesson. I had to clean every utensil, check every label, and prepare the filling exactly the way she liked it. For six years, I mistook that punishment for a chance to earn back their love. Now I only pitied the girl who had tried so hard. “Ask the cook to make it,” I said, holding the banister. “I don’t want to.” Dad stared at me. Mom frowned. Neither had expected their obedient daughter to refuse. I turned toward my room. Camilla hurried after me and grabbed my arm. “Are you still angry with me?” Her eyes filled with tears. “I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to tell Mom and Dad that you spent my food money.” The foyer went silent. Dad crossed the room and slapped me. I fell against the stairs. My injured right leg struck the edge, and pain tore through the fresh sutures. “You dare blame Camilla?” His voice was low and frightening. “If you hadn’t taken her food money, she wouldn’t have collapsed from hunger. Marco gave his life for this family, and you still treated his daughter this way.” Mom saw the blood spreading through my bandage and came forward to help me up. “Audrey, we don’t make you sign those notes because we don’t love you,” she said. “You’re our biological daughter and the future of this family. We expect you to be honest and take responsibility.” I moved away from her. “I didn’t steal her money. And I didn’t lie about the accident.” Mom’s expression tightened. “We asked Dr. Bennett. The family medical center has no record of treating you.” “If you needed money, you could have asked me,” Camilla said. “I would have shared my allowance. We’re sisters.” Mom pulled her close. “You don’t have to keep defending her.” I looked at Camilla in my mother’s arms and laughed softly. Two hundred promissory notes were an education. Forgetting my birthday was an obligation. Nearly dying was another lesson. Dad immediately stepped in front of Camilla. “What are you planning to do?” I removed the surgical report from my bag and dropped it at his feet. “The ambulance took me to the county hospital because I couldn’t afford your private medical center. That’s why Dr. Bennett found no record.” Dad picked it up. As he read my name, the surgery time, and the diagnosis, the color drained from his face. Mom stared at the words FRACTURE REPAIR and EMERGENCY SURGERY. “Audrey, your leg…” She stepped toward me, panic finally breaking through her certainty. Camilla rushed forward first. “You really were hurt?” Tears streamed down her face as she seized my arm. “Why didn’t you tell us again? If we hadn’t been arranging my birthday party, Mom and Dad could have stayed with you.” Her fingernails dug into my injured arm. I pulled away instinctively. Camilla threw herself backward onto the carpet. Dad caught her. Mom immediately stepped between us. “Audrey! We know now that we misjudged you, but Camilla was only trying to comfort you. Why must you punish her for our mistake?” Dad’s guilt disappeared behind anger. “It was an accident. You survived.” He drew Camilla against him. “Her father didn’t.” Then he looked at me. “Apologize.” Chapter 3 I had no desire to explain again. I turned toward the front door Something shattered behind me. Dad hurled a crystal decanter at the floor near my feet. A shard grazed my calf, and blood appeared. “Audrey DeLuca, if you walk through that door, don't expect this family to pay another cent for you!” Vincent's face was dark with rage. “You have signed enough promissory notes over the years. Repay every one by next week. If you don't, I will turn them over to our family attorney. Neither the collection action nor an investigation into the food money you stole will disappear merely because your name is DeLuca.” Mom looked at the blood on my leg and seemed ready to approach. Camilla gently caught her arm. “Uncle Vincent, please don't be angry. Audrey was just discharged. She may be acting impulsively.” Her plea only made Dad regard her as more considerate. “Do you hear her, Audrey? Even now Camilla is defending you. Marco died saving us, and you refuse to accept even the small responsibility of caring for his daughter.” I looked back. Dad stood before Camilla as if guarding a precious family legacy. Mom watched my injury but did not step around her. They expected me to surrender. In the past, invoking Marco's sacrifice and DeLuca honor had always made me lower my head. This time, I felt nothing. “Fine.” I opened the door, “I will repay everything by next week.” Eighteen thousand dollars. Two hundred notes. Once paid, an obligation that had never been mine could no longer bind me. As I left the estate, I heard Dad shout behind me. “Let her go! I want to see how many days she lasts without the DeLuca name.” I did not look back. Every step hurt. Blood soaked my sock as I limped through the estate gates. I had never lived beyond my family's control, and now I had nowhere to go. Wind blew in from the bay. Beneath a streetlamp, I crouched and wrapped my arms around myself, trying to warm a body that had gone cold. My parents had once trusted me. That changed in elementary school, when they gave me our monthly lunch money and told me to look after Camilla. Whenever she wanted to eat with her friends, I gave her two thirds of it. Weeks later, she collapsed from hunger, and Mom found a designer bag hidden in my closet. I had never seen it before. When Camilla woke, she curled against Mom and whispered, “Please don’t blame Audrey. She probably just wanted the bag very badly.” With one sentence, she turned the missing money into my theft—and herself into the sister who was still kind enough to defend me. From then on, every lie she told became another mistake I had to repay, and every sacrifice I made was called my duty as a DeLuca. Eight years later, that duty had become two hundred promissory notes. I took them from my bag and looked through them again. Eighteen thousand dollars. To the DeLucas, it could not buy one of Camilla's gowns. To a recent high-school graduate, it was an impossible wall. Still, I straightened every note. I had seven days, and whatever it took, I would repay them. This was not an angry daughter running away. I was leaving for good. Chapter 4 To repay the debt within a week, I took three jobs. At dawn, I stocked shelves in a bakery. In the afternoon, I entered accounts for a small business. At night, I served drinks at a casino club aboard a private yacht. After selling my laptop, camera, and remaining jewelry and adding five days’ wages, I had raised six thousand dollars. I still needed twelve thousand. Dad had forbidden every DeLuca-connected business from hiring me. This club belonged to an out-of-state organization, catered to high-stakes gamblers, and paid its staff daily. Four more nights might have been enough. When I entered a VIP lounge carrying bourbon, Nick was seated at the center of the card table. Camilla leaned against him, the DeLuca ruby bracelet glittering around her wrist. It should have passed to me on my eighteenth birthday. Nick stood the instant he saw me. “Audrey? What are you doing here?” “You ordered bourbon.” I set down the tray and turned away. He caught my wrist. “You disappeared for five days. Camilla has been worried sick, and you’ve been hiding here serving drinks to strangers?” “Let go. I’m working.” Only then did he notice my bloodless face and the stain spreading through the bandage around my leg. “What happened to you?” “It has nothing to do with you.” “Audrey, why are you doing this to yourself?” He still believed every hardship was self-inflicted. One apology to Camilla would restore my home, my engagement, and his affection. Whether I was guilty had never mattered. I pulled my hand free. Nick swept the tray from the table. Bottles shattered across the floor. The manager hurried over but did not dare confront the Marino heir. “Charge it to her,” Nick said. The manager hesitated. “The liquor and cleaning costs will come out of tonight’s wages and tips.” That was three nights of work. I crouched and began gathering the glass. A shard sliced my finger. “Stop.” Nick stepped toward me. “You would rather bleed here than go home and apologize?” “Because I did nothing wrong.” He stared at me, then pulled out his checkbook. He wrote a check and tossed it onto the table. “Eighteen thousand dollars. Take it and end this performance.” I looked at the amount. “What is the condition?” “Come home and apologize to Camilla. Admit you failed to explain the accident because you wanted to ruin her birthday.” Camilla touched his sleeve. “Nick, don’t force her. Audrey must have her reasons.” His expression softened as he looked at her. When he turned back to me, only weary impatience remained. “Camilla is still defending you. Why can’t you accept the way out I’m giving you?” Because it was not a way out. It was another debt. I picked up the check. Nick relaxed. Then I tore it in half. “Have you lost your mind?” “This isn’t about money.” I placed the pieces on the table. “Every kindness you offer comes with a price. I’m done paying it.” I removed my apron and handed it to the manager. “I’ll replace what was deducted tonight. Once the final debt is paid, none of you will ever have to deal with me again.” I headed for the exit. Nick’s voice followed me. “How many people in New York do you think will employ you once you leave the DeLuca family?” I paused. “That’s my problem.” “Don’t you still need twelve thousand dollars?” Before I could answer, the captain’s warning sounded over the speakers. [Sudden coastal squall. All guests must remain inside. Keep clear of the exterior decks.] Rain swallowed the windows. The yacht rolled as deckhands rushed to secure the lifeboats. Furniture and glassware slid across the exposed deck. Nick pointed outside. “Bring in everything left on that deck, and I’ll give you the twelve thousand.” The lounge fell silent. He knew I was terrified of thunder. He knew my leg was injured. But he never expected me to accept. He expected fear to break me before he did. I tied the apron around my waist. “Deal.” Nick’s expression changed. “Audrey, I wasn’t actually telling you to—” I opened the door and stepped into the storm. Freezing rain struck my face. The deck pitched beneath me, and thunder made my hands shake. When we were children, Nick used to slip into my room during storms and cover my ears. He had promised he would never leave me frightened and alone. Now he stood inside the warm cabin, waiting for fear to send me back to him. Holding the rail, I dragged the scattered objects toward the door one at a time. The tablecloth. The glasses. An overturned service cart. Only one chair remained. I limped toward it. Behind me, the cabin door flew open. “Audrey, come back!” Nick shouted. “Forget the chair!” Lightning split the sky. A massive wave struck the yacht. The deck tilted violently. My foot slipped, and my body crashed into the storm-weakened railing. Metal shrieked. Then it broke. I fell backward into the black water. “Audrey!”