Chapter 4

"There's no evidence that the food actually caused any harm, and I made sure they knew about your company's clean record.

"You'll be fined ten thousand dollars, and you'll have to suspend operations for two months. Given the pressure from my superiors, that's the lightest penalty I could get for you.

"Just sign the paperwork and admit you were at fault. Shirley will also post a statement supporting you. Once that's done, we can put this behind us and go home to get back to our lives."

I sat on the couch, staring at the administrative penalty notice.

Ten thousand dollars. A two-month shutdown. An admission of fault.

I felt nothing but emptiness.

"Go back to the home where you can throw me under the bus whenever your childhood sweetheart needs saving?" I asked quietly.

Jack's expression hardened, and his voice rose immediately.

"This again! I told you, Shirley was just doing her job. She saw something suspicious and reported it. Why can't you just let it go?"

I held his gaze. I wanted to give him one last chance to prove me wrong.

"Jack, what if I told you the replacement meals the emergency management office handed out were spoiled? The meat was rotten, and people in the disaster zone got sick after eating it."

He hesitated. "That's impossible. The emergency management office has strict procurement procedures."

"What if I told you that Shirley's uncle owns the company that supplied those meals?" I pushed further. "What if her so-called 'heroic expose' was just a setup to destroy my company and profit from the disaster?"

The room fell silent for a moment.

Jack slammed his hand on the table and shot to his feet.

"Nora, you're unbelievable! I've known Shirley since we were kids. I know exactly what kind of person she is!"

"She puts herself in danger to uncover the truth. You really think she'd do this for a little money? You're making up lies just to shift the blame onto her! When did you become so petty and spiteful?"

I looked at him, and the ache in my chest suddenly faded. I'd been holding on to the last bit of hope for so long. Now, it was gone.

I pulled out the divorce papers I'd signed the night before and slid them across the table.

Jack stared at the papers. His mouth moved, but he said nothing.

I lowered my eyes and put the lid back on the spaghetti. The pasta was soggy, and the sauce had already gone cold.

Jack stood on the other side of the table, breathing a little heavier. He remained silent.

I waited.

Five seconds passed. He still didn't move or reach for the papers.

I pushed them a little closer. The edge of the paper bumped against the administrative penalty notice.

"I've already signed it," I said. "Take it and go be with that righteous reporter of yours."