I almost laughed.
“No.”
“I’m serious.”
“I know.
That’s why I said no.”
“Then allow me to pay the arrears.”
“No.”
“Anna—”
“No.”
His jaw tightened.
“You would rather let your daughter lose her home?”
I stood so quickly the chair scraped backward.
“Don’t you dare.”
He immediately regretted it.
“I’m sorry.”
“You think because you have money you understand what this feels like?”
“No.”
“You have twelve bedrooms upstairs that nobody sleeps in.”
“Yes.”
“You have no idea what it means to calculate whether groceries can wait because your child needs medicine.”
“You’re right.”
