The Placebo Daughter

My mother and I shared a pure, unadulterated hate.
She was one of the nations top cardiac surgeons, yet shed ignored my debilitating heart condition for eighteen years. My father, to care for his sickly, fragile daughter, had sacrificed his career, his potential. Hed groveled for access to the specialized medication I neededpills that cost thousands of dollars apiece. Hed always told me my mother saw nothing but her scalpel; we didnt exist to her.
I loathed her.
It wasnt until a sudden accident that my mother saw my latest medical chart. She pointed at the data, her eyes terrifyingly calm. I transfer three million a year to your father for medical expenses. This is how hes been treating you?
1
Ave, easy sips. Your mood seems stable today, and your heart rate is steady.
My father, Dean, gently held a glass of warm water to my lips. With his other hand, he held a small, unmarked white pill bottle, shaking two tablets into his palm.
These pills were pure white, no label, no markings. I had been taking them since I was small. Dad always said they were cutting-edge medication Mom had pulled strings to get from Europethousands of dollars a pillthe only thing keeping my pulse stable.
I obediently opened my mouth, swallowing the tablets with the water.
Dad, is Aunt Carol coming over today?
She is, sweetie. She made that special organic bone broth you like so much. To keep your strength up.
As he spoke, he expertly pulled out the digital blood pressure monitor, checking my heart rate and blood pressure, carefully logging the numbers in a ledger. The sheer volume of those booksdozens, tightly filledrepresented my entire life. My Continuation Archive.
The doorbell rang.
Aunt Carol swept in carrying a massive insulated container. She was loud and dramatic from the moment she crossed the threshold.
Oh, my God, Avery, you still look like a ghost! Dean, are you looking after her at all?
She pushed Dad aside and pressed the back of her hand to my forehead.
Has that woman, Eleanor, been calling to upset you again? I told you, shes a curse! All she knows how to do is rake in dirty money. What else is she good for?
Dad sighed, the familiar look of exhaustion and defeat clouding his face.
Carol, please. Shes still Averys mother.
Mother? She wouldnt know how! Aunt Carols voice pitched eight octaves higher. She barely comes home, and when she calls, what does she ask? Only if Avery is dead yet! Thats all she cares about!
Poor Avery, stuck with a mother like that! And poor you, Dean, throwing away a brilliant career just to be here for her!
Every one of Aunt Carols words landed like a needle in my heart. I lowered my gaze to my own pale, fragile fingers. She was right. Dad should have been a high-powered, brilliant engineer. He was a promising graduate from a top university. But I was his liability, his drug-dependent patient, the reason he couldnt work.
And my mother, Dr. Eleanor Roth? She simply used money to buy her absence. Cold numbers were the extent of her maternal love.
2
Getting into college was the result of a long, brutal fight waged by my father.
The whole family had opposed it, terrified I would literally die on campus.
But Dad insisted: I cant let this child live a life full of regret.
In the end, he won, personally driving me through the university gates.
On the very first day, the counselor received a massive stack of my medical records and specifically instructed the whole class to be cautious and accommodating with me. I was exempt from physical education, couldnt join any clubs that required activity, and certainly couldnt live in the collective dorms.
Dad rented an apartment right off-campus. He drove me everywhere, made all my meals, and supervised every single pill I took.
I was separated from the vibrant, bustling campus by an invisible, impenetrable wall.
My peers would meet up for late-night pizza runs and parties; I was stuck in the apartment, sipping the bland, oil-free broth Dad insisted on. They were sweating on the sports field; I watched from the window, knowing that even a brisk walk downstairs was an absolute luxury.
My phone vibrated.
Eleanor Roth flashed on the screen.
I handed the phone to my father. I never answered her calls.
He stepped onto the balcony, lowering his voice, but I could still catch fragments of the conversation.
...situation is the same...
...The new medication? Yes, still taking it. Its helping...
...The funds? I understand. Just transfer them on time.
He hung up a few minutes later, his face grim.
Your mother yelled at me again, he said, his eyes red-rimmed. She said I wasnt taking proper care of you. She said I was intentionally dragging this out just to extort more money from her.
Avery, I am so sorry. Ive failed you. Its my fault you have to endure your mothers abuse.
A sharp, familiar pain seized my chest.
No, Dad, dont say that! Its my fault!
If it werent for me, you wouldnt be humiliated like this.
That woman. How dare she? How dare she use her money to trample on my fathers dignity?
In my sophomore year, the university invited an accomplished alum to give a lecture.
It was Eleanor Roth.
The day the poster went up, the entire campus went wild.
Oh my God, its Eleanor Roth! The legendary First Blade of Cardiac Surgery!
I heard her surgical appointments are booked out for the next three years!
Shes my idol! I have to go!
I stared at the postera woman in a crisp white coat, her expression cool and aloofand my stomach lurched. I wanted to run and hide.
But the counselor personally called my dad. Attendance was mandatory for all students. Dad had no choice but to drop me off at the auditorium entrance.
Dont worry, Ave. Dad will be right outside waiting. Text me immediately if you feel unwell. He looked terrified.
I nodded and found the most isolated seat in the back corner of the packed hall.
Eleanor, wearing a perfectly tailored business suit, stood on stage, calmly sharing the latest medical breakthroughs. Every case she discussed was harrowing, every life she saved a miracle.
The audience erupted in applause. I felt like I was suffocating.
Halfway through the lecture, an accident occurred. A stagehand collapsed without warning, convulsing and foaming at the mouth. Chaos erupted. Screams and shouts mixed into a loud panic.
Eleanor reacted in a split second. She jumped off the stage and rushed over.
Step back! Im a doctor!
Her voice carried an undeniable, commanding authority.
The crowd parted instantly. She knelt, assessed the condition, unbuttoned the mans shirt collar, and started CPR. One pump, two, three. Her movements were precise, calm, and incredibly efficient.
The metallic smell of blood, the antiseptic scent of the auditorium, the sudden rush of noisethe gasps of students, the teachers directing trafficall drilled into my ears like an oppressive roar.
My heart began to beat wildly, beyond my control. My breath hitched, and the edges of my vision started to go dark.
Avery, you must never be stressed. Your heart cant take it Dads warning echoed in my ears.
I clutched my chest, gasping for air, but the room felt suddenly void of oxygen.
In the second before I lost consciousness, I saw Eleanor look up, her gaze sweeping right toward my corner of the auditorium.
When I woke up, I was in a private hospital room. The familiar, sterile smell of antiseptic filled my nostrils.
Eleanor was sitting by my bedside, holding a medical file. Her eyes were downcast, her expression unreadable. She was still in the same suit, but her jacket was off, revealing a white blouse. Her sleeves were rolled up, and a faint, dried bloodstain marred her forearm.

First, search for and download the MotoNovel app from Google. Then, open the app and use the code "334475" to read the entire book.