“You came to collect.”
“I came to ask my son for help.”
“You came after the paper told you I had money.”
“It is not unreasonable for family to support one another.”
“No.”
The word was quiet.
Diane blinked.
“What?”
“No.”
Her face hardened.
“You haven’t even heard the amount.”
“I don’t need to.”
“You owe me more than that.”
The walking pole struck the floor.
Not thrown.
Dropped.
Noah gripped the table with both hands.
“I owe you nothing for not abandoning me when I was eight.”
His voice rose.
“I owe you nothing for food or rent or school.”
“You selfish—”
“No.”
The second refusal cracked through the room.
Noah’s whole body shook.
“I won’t pay you to pretend you love me.”
Diane stepped back.
“I did not say—”
“You didn’t have to.”
He pointed toward the workshop.
“Leave.”
