03

He pulled open the passenger door, and the moment I slid in, a sweet scent hit me.

Gardenia. Amber's usual perfume.

A pair of matching luck-bead charms hung from the mirror. I'd never seen them before.

The passenger seat had been adjusted too, so cramped I could barely fit.

Clearly Amber had ridden in this car far more often than I had.

My whole body was resisting it, but it was already past midnight, and I had no money left for a cab.

The car pulled out through the hospital gates.

I took out my phone and saw the offer from Patrick sitting in my inbox.

Same position. Seven-figure salary.

The car was silent.

Then his phone rang, cutting through it.

The dashboard lit up, and I caught two words: "Amber, sweetie."

He swiped it away fast.

Took the call on his phone instead. "Mm? Go ahead."

His voice carried a tenderness that had never once been mine.

I couldn't hear what she said on the other end. Probably some cooing.

The corner of his mouth curved up, and he laughed a little. "Stop it, I'm driving."

She said something else, and his smile vanished.

He hung up and pulled the car over to the curb.

"Something urgent came up at work." His tone was flat. "You get out here."

"Amber's looking for you?"

"Trudy, it really is an emergency at the office."

He turned to look at me, like it pained him.

"I have to head over right now. You can grab a cab home, right?"

"Amber calls, and off you go.

I'm running a fever of a hundred and four, and you won't take me to the doctor.

It's raining, and you're dumping me on the side of the road?"

His face went dark.

"Trudy, that's enough."

His voice shot up all at once, his color livid.

"I told you it's work.

You don't have a job, so you don't know how hard money is to make?

If I don't work, you and the kid both starve, is that it?"

I looked at the twisted expression on his face.

The "I'll provide for you" from back then had become "you're mine to feed" now.

"You're the one who told me to quit."

I clenched my fists, nails digging into my palms, and felt no pain at all.

"Right, I told you to quit."

He let out a cold laugh.

"I told you to quit so you could take care of our son. Did you take care of him?

He's still at home crying right now.

You don't even have any milk for him,

you spend all day pointlessly jealous over Amber,

money's not your worry anymore, so what more do you have to complain about?"

I just looked at him.

Then, as if something clicked, he sent me another twenty dollars.

"That's for your cab fare. Now go."

He waved a hand and shooed me out of the car.

When it came to a doctor for me, he wouldn't part with a cent.

In a rush to see Amber, though, he could suddenly afford the fare.

As he swung the car around and passed me,

he leaned his head out the window again. "Text me when you get home."

I didn't answer.

Back at the house, it was strangely quiet.

I went in and eased open the door of the master bedroom.

Empty.

A bad feeling rose in me.

I spun around and hurried to the second bedroom.

A thread of crying came from a corner of the room.

I followed the sound. The baby was on the floor.

He'd tumbled out of the crib, wrapped in a thin blanket, dropped onto the ground.

He'd cried until his voice cracked, the sound coming in broken gasps.

To go see Amber, Bruce had actually left our not-yet-two-month-old baby alone in the room.

04

The baby's face had gone blue from crying so long without air.

I held him tight against me, straining to feel his heartbeat.

The tiny body twitched once in my arms and let out a whimper.

I sat there on the floor. Outside, the rain kept falling.

I pulled out my phone.

One unread message. Bruce, just now: "Home yet?"

I pressed the screen dark.

His small hand had a fistful of my collar, as if he were afraid I'd leave again.

By the time he finally slept, I was wrung out to nothing.

Outside, the sky was turning gray with dawn.

The ache in my left breast still hadn't eased.

I opened my social media feed.

Amber's post sat right at the top.

"A new little addition to the family."

The photo was a pregnancy test. Two lines.

And below it, a comment from Bruce:

"All these years, I'll always be your rock."

The location tag was the hospital I'd gone to tonight.

I started laughing then, no sound at all, laughing until the tears ran down my cheeks.

Amber was pregnant. With my husband's child.

It was so absurd it was funny.

All at once I understood why he'd been waiting outside the maternity ward tonight,

why he'd hovered at the door of the ultrasound room, words caught in his throat.

Amber was inside.

He hadn't been looking for me, not once, from beginning to end.

The person he was waiting for had always been Amber.

Fine. Let the marriage end.

I opened the suitcase and packed up my things and the baby's.

Then I called Mr. Finch.

"The signed offer confirmation is already back in your inbox."

I hesitated, then said it: "Could you lend me two hundred dollars first? I want to take my son and leave Bruce."

Mr. Finch was one of the few people at the company who knew about Bruce and me.

Three seconds of silence on the line.

"Lend you... two hundred? Trudy, the investment calls you used to make were measured in the hundreds of millions."

There was a smile in his voice.

I gave a bitter one back. "Married the wrong man. Believed the wrong words."

He laughed softly. "All right. I've advanced your first month's salary. Get your strength back, and come in whenever you're ready."

My phone chimed. A hundred thousand dollars, credited to my account.

The second Mr. Finch hung up, it rang again. Bruce.

"Trudy, the company just told me they're firing me."

He sounded frantic.

"You used to be close with Mr. Finch and the rest of them. Find out for me what's going on. I still need this job to support you and our daughter."

To support Amber and her baby, more like.

Because — I looked at my luggage.

The clothes: bargain-bin stuff, twenty-one dollars a piece.

The formula: near-expiry cans, fifty-one apiece.

I'd seen his shopping history once. All that Burberry, all that Chanel.

I'd thought it was a surprise for me.

Then I met Amber, standing polished and radiant at Bruce's mother side,

and I finally understood that none of those clothes had ever been mine.

Neither had Bruce.

I gave a cold little laugh. "Any chance they're firing you for your personal conduct?"

He caught the jab, but he didn't dare turn on me right now.

"Stop it. I hear the termination letter's just missing the CFO's signature. Go ask, quick, find out who took your position."

I looked at the termination letter that had just come through the fax.

He was right. It was only missing the CFO's signature.

I hung up, gathered my son, and walked out without looking back.

This time, I called for an Uber.

Bruce drove home in a foul mood, foot flat to the floor the whole way.

The moment he stepped inside, his mother came running out of the bedroom.

"Bruce, Trudy and the baby are both gone!"

His stomach dropped.

She handed him an envelope. On the front it read: To Bruce Delgado.