Chapter 2

"Why?"

Roberta studied her diamond-studded nails, turning her hand beneath the cabin light.

"Because what's the point?"

She sounded genuinely puzzled.

"That woman already gave him the best years of her life. She stayed beside him when everyone thought he was just some nobody working for the Morettis."

Her thumb brushed an invisible mark from the diamond on my wedding ring.

"Now he's made it. He has money, power, connections. If you were a man, would you really waste all that money on a wife who's already getting old?"

She shrugged.

"You can't buy youth back."

The dark airplane window reflected my face.

Pale skin.

Hollow cheeks.

Shadows beneath my eyes.

For a moment, I barely recognized myself.

Roberta leaned closer.

"You know, you're older than me, but you're still pretty."

Her eyes moved over my face with casual judgment.

"Since we've been getting along, I'll give you some advice. Women have to invest in themselves."

She touched her cheek.

"Good skincare. Maybe a few cosmetic treatments."

Then she smiled.

"Your skin looks a little dry. Your husband hasn't been very interested lately, has he?"

I said nothing.

Her skin was flawless.

Smooth and bright, without a single visible line.

I used to look like that.

No.

I used to look better.

Ten years in a cramped apartment, counting every dollar and carrying every hardship beside Carl, had changed me.

Sometimes I looked at old photographs and wondered where that woman had gone.

"Cosmetic treatments are expensive," I said quietly.

"So?"

Roberta laughed.

"My man gives me five hundred thousand a month just for living expenses."

My fingers went still.

"And that doesn't include beauty treatments," she added. "He pays for those separately."

Five hundred thousand.

Every month.

My eyes fell to the tiny crystal decorating the corner of her eyeliner.

Even something that useless probably cost more than everything I was wearing.

My fingers curled tightly around the hem of my shirt.

"How long have you been with him?"

Roberta thought for a second.

"June 12th, 2023."

She glanced at me.

"Why?"

My entire body went cold.

June 12th, 2023.

The day my mother died.

That day, she needed five hundred thousand dollars for emergency surgery.

I remembered Carl making call after call, telling me he had begged everyone he knew.

He said he'd emptied every account he had.

In the end, he brought me three hundred and fifty thousand.

"This is everything, Zoe," he'd told me.

"Every cent I've saved since I started working for the Moretti company."

I'd believed him.

I sold everything I could.

Jewelry.

My laptop.

Even the few things Mom had given me before she got sick.

I borrowed from anyone willing to answer my calls.

In the end, I managed to find another eighty thousand.

It still wasn't enough.

Mom died.

Afterward, Carl had held me in the hospital hallway while I cried.

"I'm sorry."

His face had been wet with tears.

"I'm useless, Zoe. I couldn't even save Mom."

He'd held me tighter.

"You've suffered so much because you married me."

And like an idiot, I'd comforted him.

"You found three hundred and fifty thousand for her."

I'd wiped the tears from his face.

"You gave us everything you had."

My voice had broken.

"Mom knew you tried. She didn't blame you."

I had blamed myself instead.

If I'd worked harder.

If I'd borrowed more.

If I'd somehow found that missing money.

Maybe Mom would still be alive.

Carl had gripped my hand that night.

"Just give me a little more time, Zoe."

His eyes were red.

"I swear I won't let you live like this forever."

I'd nodded.

I believed every word.

But he'd had money.

More than enough.

All along.

Roberta's voice pulled me back.

"You know what's funny?"

I slowly turned toward her.

"That same month, his wife's mother needed five hundred thousand for surgery."

My heart stopped.

Roberta winked.

"He was going to pay for it at first."

My throat tightened.

"You took the money?"

"For your allowance?"

"What?"

She laughed.

"No. Carl has plenty of money. Giving me five hundred thousand wouldn't stop him from paying a hospital bill."

I stared at her.

"Then why didn't he?"

Roberta rested her chin on one hand.

"Because I told him not to."

For a moment, I couldn't understand what she'd said.

She smiled.

"I told him that if her mother died, his wife wouldn't have any family left."

My fingers began to shake.

"No parents. No one to protect her."

Roberta's smile deepened.

"And if she ever found out about me someday, where could she go?"

My stomach twisted.

"She'd have no one to run to."

I clenched my teeth until my jaw hurt.

Roberta continued as if she were discussing some clever business strategy.

"Besides, I wanted a new Chanel piece that month."

She laughed softly.

"It cost almost exactly five hundred thousand."

I stared at her.

"Aren't you afraid she'll find out?"

"Please."

Roberta rolled her eyes.

"I'm not stupid."

Then she leaned closer.

"I'm the one who told Carl how to handle it."

My blood ran cold.

"I told him to give his wife three hundred and fifty thousand and claim it was everything he owned."

She smiled proudly.

"That way, she'd think her poor husband had emptied his entire life savings for her mother."

Her voice softened into a mocking imitation.

"She'd be grateful."

My nails dug into my palms.

"And she'd blame herself for failing to find the rest."

Roberta sat back, satisfied.

"Once a woman feels guilty enough, she stops asking questions."

The roar of the airplane filled the silence between us.

For two years, I had believed my mother's death was my failure.

I had thanked Carl for giving me everything he had.

I had loved him more because of those three hundred and fifty thousand.

And now I finally understood.

He hadn't failed to save my mother.

He had chosen not to.