Chapter 3 - The Ghost of St. Anne’sAs Theo reached down to touch the money, Arthur’s mind involuntarily drifted back to the dark, sterile halls of St. Anne’s Hospital, exactly two years ago.
He hadn’t been Arthur Pembroke the billionaire that night; he had been Arthur Pembroke the grieving, bitter old man whose empire couldn't buy back a single breath of his late daughter’s life. Lily Carter had walked into that hospital full of hope, carrying Samuel’s child. But a catastrophic hemorrhage, a delayed obstetrician, and a shortage of advanced surgical equipment had turned the delivery room into a slaughterhouse. Lily had bled out on the table. The baby had suffocated in the womb.
Arthur had used his immense wealth and ruthless lawyers to bury the hospital’s negligence, silencing the staff with ironclad nondisclosure agreements and massive settlements. But the guilt—or rather, the profound, unyielding cynicism it bred—had settled deep into his bones. He had created the "Test of Conscience" precisely because of that night. He wanted proof that human beings were fundamentally transactional, that love, loyalty, and honesty were nothing more than luxuries reserved for the rich, while the poor operated solely on desperation and theft.
And now, here was Samuel Carter’s son, kneeling over five thousand dollars of unsecured cash, trapped in the crosshairs of Arthur’s cruel experiment.
Theo’s fingers brushed the surface of the top bill.
Arthur’s heart hammered against his ribs. Take it, boy, Arthur thought, a dark, cynical satisfaction rising in his throat. Take it and prove to me that the world is as rotten as I know it to be.
Instead, Theo’s fingers curled away as if the paper were burning hot. With a shuddering breath, the boy pinched the edge of the bill with just the tips of his thumb and forefinger, lifted it as though it were made of fragile glass, and gently slid all three scattered bills back into the open white envelope. He didn't look inside. He didn't count them. He didn't pocket a single cent.
May you like
With painful care, Theo placed the envelope back exactly where it had been on the mahogany table, smoothing down the corner with his palm. Then, he scurried backward on his hands and knees, scrambled back to his corner on the rug, pulled his knees to his chest, and buried his face in his arms, trembling in absolute, silent panic.
Arthur lay motionless in his chair, his mind completely blank. He didn’t take it? Not even one?
