Why was it in Agnes Fox's purse?!
My whole body trembled. I lunged forward to grab the card.
"Why do you have this?"
Before my fingers even touched it, William rushed over and shoved me hard. I stumbled backward, the small of my back slamming into the sharp corner of his desk. Pain shot up my spine, and I sucked in a breath through clenched teeth.
But William was already shielding Agnes behind him, jabbing a finger in my face.
"What the hell is wrong with you, Celine?! Agnes is a single mom who just got scammed out of her money by some deadbeat. I lent her that card so she'd have somewhere to store her work funds. Is that a crime? Can you stop looking at her like she's some kind of thief?!"
Agnes cowered behind him, dabbing at her tears with trembling fingers. "I'm so sorry, Celine. This is all my fault. Please don't blame William..."
I stared at him. Long and hard. Then I snatched the scattered documents off the floor and hurled them into his chest before turning on my heel and walking out.
The moment I stepped outside, I hailed a cab to the nearest bank.
When the teller slid the transaction history across the counter, my hands shook so badly I could barely hold the thin sheets of paper.
Balance: $14.20.
Every last dollar of my eighty thousand in savings, drained over the past six months. Transfer after transfer, chipped away in small amounts, funneled into an account I'd never seen before.
I sat on the bench outside the bank for a long time that afternoon, turning everything over in my mind.
By the time I dragged my numb body home and pushed open the front door, I found my mother-in-law sprawled across the living room couch with her feet up, watching TV. Sunflower seed shells littered the floor around her like confetti.
Dorothy Dickerson had shown up from the countryside without so much as a phone call.
She didn't even glance up when I walked in. Her voice dripped with that particular brand of acid she saved just for me.
"Well, well. Mrs. Dickerson finally decided to drag herself home from wherever she's been gallivanting. My son works himself half to death out there, and you can't even have a hot meal waiting? A woman who won't even give her husband a second child, a boy at that. Honestly, I don't know what he married you for."
I looked at her coldly.
Every appliance in this house, every bag of rice, every bottle of cooking oil. I'd paid for all of it, working freelance jobs until my eyes blurred at three in the morning. Where did she get off lecturing me?
I ignored her and walked straight toward the kitchen.
That was when the front door opened again.
William walked in carrying armfuls of shopping bags stuffed with supplements and tonics. And behind him, belly swollen and unmistakable, was Agnes Fox.
"Why did you bring her here?"
I fixed my eyes on William.
He didn't flinch. If anything, he arranged his features into an expression of saintly compassion.
"Don't get the wrong idea, Celine. Agnes's ex-husband was abusive. Her lease ran out and she got kicked out of her apartment. Our boss felt sorry for her and asked me to help her out for a few days. Besides, now that Mom's here in the city, Agnes is hardworking and well-mannered. She can help with the housework, keep Mom company. Think of it as free help around the house. What's wrong with that?"
Free help around the house.
What happened at dinner ground that lie into dust.
Dorothy emerged from the kitchen cradling a bowl of premium bird's nest soup, fragrant steam curling from its surface. She set it down in front of Agnes with a warmth I'd never once seen directed at me.
"Agnes, sweetheart, eat it while it's hot. Oh, just look at how you're carrying. Pointed belly like that, it's definitely a boy! A woman's worth is in what she can produce, I always say. Even a single mother has something to fall back on if she's got a son. Not like some people. Sitting on the nest and never laying an egg."
Then she turned to me, slamming a plate of leftover stir-fried cabbage and pork from the night before onto the table in front of me.
"You eat this. No sense letting it go to waste."
Free help around the house?
This wasn't about hiring a housekeeper. Dorothy had come to the city to personally wait on her precious little songbird while she carried what they all hoped was a golden grandson.
Agnes picked up her spoon with dainty, delicate fingers. Mid-bite, she let out a soft "Oh my!" and turned her wrist just so. A diamond ring caught the overhead light and flashed, sharp and blinding.
It was the matching ring from my first wedding anniversary. The one I'd designed and paid for myself.
