The woman behind the billing desk wore the kind of smile Alexis had come to hate.
It was polite. Soft. Professional.
And completely useless.
“I understand this is difficult,” the woman said, tapping a manicured nail against the edge of a file folder, “but unless a substantial payment is made by the end of the month, your mother’s treatment plan may need to be reviewed.”
Reviewed.
Alexis stared at her for a second too long.
Reviewed was one of those words hospitals used when they didn’t want to say things plainly. It sounded cleaner than denied, kinder than delayed, gentler than we can only care if you can afford to keep her alive.
She folded her hands tightly in her lap so the woman wouldn’t see them shaking.
“How much qualifies as substantial?” Alexis asked.
The woman turned the folder toward her and slid it across the desk.
Alexis looked down.
The number didn’t even feel real anymore.
It sat there in clean black print, sterile and absolute, like her panic should be neat enough to fit into columns.
She swallowed.
“I’ve already made two payments this month.”
“Yes,” the woman said, still wearing that smile. “And we appreciate that.”
Appreciate.
Alexis almost laughed.
The laugh got stuck somewhere behind her ribs and came out as a rough exhale instead.
“I just need more time,” she said. “I start a new job on Monday. It’s paid. I can make regular payments once I get my first salary. I just need—”
“Miss Carter,” the woman interrupted gently, in the voice people used right before refusing you something, “we’ve already extended as much flexibility as we can.”
Alexis looked away before the woman could see the heat rise in her eyes.
The office was too cold.
Everything in the room was white and glass and silver. It smelled faintly of air freshener and printer paper, like grief had been professionally sanitized. Through the glass wall behind the woman, nurses moved in and out of the corridor with practiced speed, pushing carts, carrying files, saving lives Alexis wasn’t sure she could still afford.
Her jaw tightened.
“What happens,” she asked carefully, “if I can’t pay by the end of the month?”
The woman hesitated.
Just enough for Alexis to hate her for it.
“It may affect the level and continuity of care your mother is able to access under her current plan.”
There it was.
A polished version of a threat.
Alexis nodded once, because if she opened her mouth too quickly, she might say something she couldn’t afford to say.
“Okay,” she whispered.
The woman’s face softened, as if that helped.
“We do have financial counseling resources available if you’d like support.”
YOU ARE READING
Under Her Terms
RomanceOne reckless night. One impossible boss. One contract that could ruin everything. Alexis Carter is drowning. Between unpaid hospital bills, long shifts, and the crushing pressure of keeping her mother alive, the last thing she needs is a distraction...
