“Pay the rent or get out!”

Evelyn Carter sat rigid on the edge of the mattress, the antiseptic air thick in her throat, monitors humming like distant insects. Hours earlier she’d been wheeled out of the OR, still foggy from anesthesia, every movement tugging at fresh stitches. Her phone wasn’t supposed to ring—yet her father’s name lit up the screen.

“Rent. Today. Or pack your things,” he snapped before she could say hello.

“Dad, I’m still in the hospital. I just had surgery—” Evelyn forced the words out, mouth dry, palms damp against the sheet.

A low, cruel laugh. “Always an excuse. You think you’re above us now?”

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