Amanda walked down the long, brightly lit hospital corridor. The smell of bleach and rubbing alcohol made her stomach churn. She reached the end of the hall and pushed open the heavy wooden door to the women's washroom. The thick door swung shut, cutting off the noise of the hospital.
She walked straight to the sinks. She gripped the edge of the cold marble counter with both hands. She stared at the mirror. Her face was the color of chalk. Her lips were completely white.
Another cramp ripped through her abdomen. She bent over the sink and turned on the faucet. She scooped freezing water into her hands and splashed it over her face. The shock of the cold water forced her lungs to take a deep breath.
She reached into her bag and pulled out a tube of bright red lipstick. Her fingers shook as she twisted the base. She dragged the heavy, waxy color across her lips. The vibrant red looked jarring against her dead skin, but it hid the sickness.
She pulled her phone and her wireless earbuds from her pocket. She put the right bud in her ear and dialed Jeanette's number.
Jeanette picked up on the second ring. The sound of an airport boarding announcement echoed behind her.
"Amanda?" Jeanette asked. "You sound terrible. What is wrong?"
Amanda leaned her back against the cold tile wall. She closed her eyes.
"Meredith is forcing me to go to the estate," Amanda said. "And I just called Julio. A woman laughed in the background. It was not Billie."
Jeanette cursed loudly into the phone. The sound of a laptop unzipping and keys clacking followed immediately.
"Give me a second," Jeanette said. "I am pulling up his car's tracking logs through my agency's valet contacts."
Two nurses walked into the washroom, chatting about their shift. Amanda immediately stood up straight. She smoothed the lapels of her coat and pretended to check her phone. She kept her face blank until the nurses entered the stalls.
"Got him," Jeanette said. Her voice dropped an octave. "He has been at a private club in Manhattan for the last three hours. Not Long Island."
A soft ping sounded in Amanda's ear. A photo appeared on her phone screen.
Amanda opened the message. The photo was blurry, taken from a distance by a valet. Julio was walking toward a VIP elevator. His arm was wrapped tightly around the waist of a petite woman.
Amanda zoomed in on the screen. The woman's face was turned away, but Amanda recognized the jacket. It was a limited-edition designer coat. Julio had purchased it last week using Amanda's supplementary credit card. She remembered the bank alert from last Tuesday, the one Julio had casually dismissed as 'a business gift for a crucial client's wife'. The lie was so blatant, so effortlessly delivered, it was almost insulting.
The physical pain in her stomach completely vanished. It was replaced by a cold, spreading numbness.
"It is Seraphina Vance," Amanda said. She stared at the coat on her screen.
"Post it," Jeanette demanded. "Put the picture on every social media platform right now. Burn them both to the ground."
Amanda looked up at her reflection in the mirror. The red lipstick looked like blood.
"I have spent three years taking abuse from my family to secure this marriage," Amanda said. Her voice was hollow. "The sunk cost is too high. If I walk away with nothing, they win."
Jeanette let out a heavy sigh. "If you go to that estate tonight without a plan, they are going to use you as a floor mat for Billie."
Amanda's eyes narrowed. The dead look in her pupils shifted into something sharp and dangerous.
"I am not going for free," Amanda said.
She opened her text messages and clicked on Meredith's name. She typed quickly.
If you want me there, deposit two million dollars into my personal account right now as an appearance fee.
She hit send.
Ten seconds later, her phone screen flashed with an incoming call from Meredith. Amanda stared at it, her face completely expressionless, and pressed the red decline button.
A voice message notification popped up immediately. Amanda tapped the transcribe button. The text filled the screen: You ungrateful, extorting little bitch. How dare you-
Amanda did not read the rest. She opened her ride-sharing app, took a screenshot of a car requested to her apartment, started a live location sharing session, and sent it to Meredith.
The car is two minutes away. The money, or I am gone. She stared at the screen, her thumb hovering over the lock button. She meant every word. If the transfer did not clear, she was getting into that car and disappearing into the city.
Jeanette whistled through the earbud. "I am changing my flight. I am coming back to New York right now."
Amanda's phone vibrated in her palm. A notification from her bank appeared at the top of the screen. A wire transfer for two million dollars had just cleared. A text from Meredith followed a second later: Be perfect tonight, or else.
Amanda stared at the seven-figure balance. Her chest felt tight, but not from sadness. It was the suffocating reality of knowing her exact price tag in her mother's eyes.
"The money is in," Amanda said. "Dig up everything you can on Seraphina. I want her entire life history by the time I get to the estate."
"Done," Jeanette said. "Keep your chin up."
Amanda whispered a thank you and ended the call. She pulled the earbud out and dropped it into her bag. She looked in the mirror one last time. She did not look like a sick, abandoned fiancée anymore. She looked like a woman going to war.
She pushed open the washroom door. Her heels struck the linoleum floor with hard, sharp clicks. People in the hallway turned to look at her, but she stared straight ahead.
She walked through the hospital lobby and pushed through the revolving glass doors. The freezing winter wind hit her face like a slap. She pulled her cashmere coat tighter across her chest.
She stood on the top step of the hospital entrance. Her eyes narrowed as a sleek black Maybach pulled up to the curb and shifted into park.
