Chapter 3

"Enough."

Francis cut her off, his face darkening.

I stood where I was, every drop of blood in me turning cold.

So it wasn't just my two hundred thousand commission that went to buying her a car.

My feelings, my hurt, could be turned into a betting chip too.

Bets on whether I'd be reasonable. Bets on whether I'd swallow it.

Francis looked at me, his voice stiff, part of it curdling into humiliated anger.

"She's just a kid making an offhand joke. Don't blow it out of proportion."

I pulled at the corner of my mouth.

"A joke? Francis, what am I to you, really?"

"Your partner? Or something you keep around, a tool that only works and never makes a fuss?"

He shot to his feet, his voice going cold all at once.

"Abigail, are you done? It's just two hundred thousand. I'll transfer it back to you later, alright? Stop making a scene over nothing."

"Rose is right here. Give me a little face!"

Watching him shield Rose like that, I suddenly had nothing left to say.

Three years together, shattered into glass in that single moment.

The shards drove into my chest, and every organ inside me ached with it.

I didn't say another word. I turned and walked out of the office.

Behind me came Rose's soft, frail little voice.

"Francis, this is all my fault. Maybe I should give the money back to Abby, she is an old employee, after all..."

"It's got nothing to do with you. She's just in a mood. She'll be fine in a couple of days."

Right. Fine in a couple of days.

Three years. It had always gone like this.

I didn't wait for his transfer. I went straight back to the apartment we rented together.

While I was packing up, I came across the renovation contract for the wedding home.

We'd looked at that place together last year.

I'd put in four hundred thousand for the down payment, he'd put in six hundred thousand, and both our names were on it.

I was the one who oversaw the renovation from start to finish.

From design to picking out materials, I ran around for three months and lost eight pounds.

Francis said that once it was finished and we moved in, we'd finally have a home.

But last month, he told me Rose's lease was up.

She couldn't find anything suitable right away, so she'd move into the wedding home for a few months first.

"We're doing fine in the apartment anyway, and the wedding home's just sitting there empty. Let her use it to tide her over."

I didn't agree back then. We fought about it.

He said I was petty, that I didn't know better.

He said Rose was the daughter of his mentor, and he couldn't just leave her out in the cold.

In the end, I was the one who gave in.

I was still thinking about it when my phone rang.

It was Francis.

I answered without saying anything.

His tone had softened a good deal, with a coaxing edge to it.

"Still mad?"

"The studio's doing a team outing tonight. To save money we're holding it at the wedding home. Everyone's coming, to celebrate Rose winning the award."

"Just don't come by tonight."

I gripped the phone, my knuckles going white.

"Why?"

He sounded a little put-upon.

"Do you even have to ask? Except for Rose, nobody knows about us. If you show up out of nowhere, how awkward would that be for Rose?"

"And if the employees ask who you are and why you're in my wedding home, how am I supposed to introduce you?"

"I'll make it up to you properly once the outing's over. Be good."

To avoid any appearance of impropriety, every other employee could come to my home.

And I, the one it actually belonged to, had to keep my distance and clear out to make room for them.

I closed my eyes.

"Fine."

Francis let out a breath.

"That's my good girl. I'll transfer you the money tonight. Don't make a fuss now, okay?"

I hung up, threw the renovation contract into my bag, and dragged my suitcase out the door.

I didn't go to a hotel.

I took a car straight to the wedding home.

On the way, I came across Rose's newest post on social media.

The whole studio had taken a group photo inside my wedding home.

My eyes settled on Rose's neck, and stayed there a long time.