Chapter 3

I sprang from my chair, gripping the edge of the desk so hard my fingers hurt.

"I opened four boxes! All four smelled the same. How the hell are we supposed to eat that?" Darren's voice was shaking with anger.

"There are 30 of us who've barely eaten since yesterday. We've been getting by on a couple of protein bars, waiting for the hot meals. And this is what they send us!

"Nora, do you have any idea how hot it is out here? It's 98 degrees. We're wading through mud up to our knees, and the wound on Greg's leg is already infected. We still have to slog through the water to deliver supplies!"

He took a sharp, ragged breath before continuing, "The guy in charge of supplies didn't even try to explain. He just said, 'It was an emergency purchase. Take it up with the higher-ups.' The higher-ups? To hell with them! I've called more than a dozen times, and nobody's picking up!"

Then, his voice dropped lower. "Jack used to get so worried when you stayed up late handling quality control. How could he be the one leading the team that seized your shipment?"

His words hit a nerve. I took a deep breath and forced myself to stay calm.

"Darren, listen carefully. Keep the spoiled meal containers. Take photos and videos for evidence. Record the victims' symptoms and get copies of their doctors' diagnoses. Protect all the evidence. Don't hand it over to anyone. Wait for my call."

I got home late that night. The house was filled with the fresh scent of houseplants.

Jack always said a home needed a little life in it. I used to tease him that he couldn't keep a single plant alive, and he'd chase me around with a slipper.

Now the plants were thriving, but somehow, the house felt colder and emptier than ever.

I went into the bedroom, pulled out a suitcase, and began packing.

On the nightstand sat a framed photo of us from a hiking trip we'd taken last fall. We were leaning into each other with bright smiles.

I left it where it was.

I was halfway through packing when I heard the electronic lock on the front door beep. Jack was home. He took off his shoes and walked in.

When he saw the suitcase on the floor, his expression darkened.

"Nora, don't you think you're taking this too far?"

I said nothing and kept packing.

"Shirley has been blaming herself all day over what's happening online," he continued, his tone exasperated. "She hasn't eaten anything and keeps apologizing to me. Are you seriously trying to threaten me by walking out?"

People in the disaster zone were vomiting from spoiled food. My company was getting torn apart online and was on the verge of bankruptcy. Yet all he cared about was that Shirley hadn't eaten anything.

I zipped up my suitcase and stood up.

At the front door, I took my house key off the key ring and placed it on the entryway cabinet. The metal key made a sharp click against the wood.

Only then did I speak. "I'm not threatening you. I'm just getting out of her way."

I opened the door and walked out. He didn't come after me. Behind me, the living room light was still on.

…

The next day, Jack tracked me down to my hotel room. He was still in his suit, and the badge on his chest gleamed in the light. It was likely that he had just gotten off work.

His eyes swept over the laptop bag on the bed and the ready-to-eat spaghetti on the corner of the table.

The curtains were closed, leaving the room dim.

His brow furrowed slightly. It was barely noticeable, but I caught it.

He walked over, placed a file folder on the table, and pulled out a chair. Before sitting down, he ran a hand over the seat to make sure it was clean.

He rested a hand on the folder. His voice softened a little, but his tone was still smug and condescending. "Why are you staying in a place like this? Do you want people to laugh at us?"

He tapped the folder with his index finger. "The department has reached a final decision."