4

The next day, the crew had each pair switch roles. It was my turn to plan Isabella's meals, clothes, lodging, and transportation for the day.

The other guests went to rooftop restaurants and private spas.

I took Isabella to the supermarket nearby.

She stood off to the side and watched me pick out a bag of potatoes at the store's members-only price and grab a 30-cent coupon.

At the sample table, I finished a small piece of cheese and asked the employee, "Could I have another?"

"One per person."

I looked at Isabella. "Do you want one?"

"No."

I turned right back around. "Then could I have hers?"

The staff member paused, then handed me another piece.

I quickly thanked her.

Isabella looked at me with an expression I couldn't read. "You really had to take that too?"

"If you're not eating it, I might as well have it."

"We have top-quality ingredients delivered to the house every day."

"They did when we first got married. Then the deliveries stopped. They said Victor thought I was spending too much."

Her eyes darkened. "Victor said that himself?"

I thought for a moment and shook my head. "No. I never heard him say it."

She was about to ask more when Chloe suddenly ran over, clutching her stomach.

Chloe hadn't eaten that morning, and her empty stomach had made her ulcer flare up.

Olga wanted to take her to the hospital, but Chloe wrapped her arms around the shopping cart and wouldn't go.

"Not yet. I'll be fine once I eat. One trip to the ER would use up my whole month's allowance."

I gave her half of the sandwich I'd just bought.

She cried as she ate. "When I'm rich, we're going to the most expensive seafood buffet there is."

"Okay. We'll go together."

"And when we do, we'll check the menu first. No filling up on bread and salad."

"Okay."

The livestream chat was in stitches.

Back at the charity week's main venue, a few community clinics working with the foundation offered free consultations.

Olga took Chloe to have her blood pressure checked. As I waited nearby, I noticed a stack of prescription assistance flyers on the table.

I picked one up.

"Can heart patients apply for this program too?"

The staff member nodded. "If you qualify, you can apply for help with part of the cost."

I asked again, "What about someone like me? If I couldn't afford my medicine one day, could I apply?"

Isabella whipped her head around.

"Elena, why are you asking about that?"

I folded the flyer and put it in my bag.

"Just to have it."

"Have it for what?"

I looked at her.

"If Victor ever tells me to move out, at least I won't die out there because I can't afford my medicine."

Her expression changed in an instant. "Who said he's kicking you out?"

"No one. But he hasn't been home in three months, my allowance keeps shrinking, and my medicine has been cut off. I have to plan ahead."

The whole place went quiet.

For the first time, no one in the comments laughed.

[She's already looking into help with her meds?]

[So she's actually planning how to survive after she gets kicked out?]

[Doesn't Victor give her two million dollars a month? Why does she need help paying for medicine?]

Isabella stared at the corner of the flyer poking out of my bag and said nothing for a long while.

Just then, a few black cars pulled up outside the square.

A car door opened, and Victor strode toward me in a dark suit. His tie was loose, and he looked exhausted from the trip.

He stopped in front of me. His eyes passed over my pale face and landed on the flyer sticking out of my bag. His frown deepened.

"Elena."

He grabbed my wrist and spoke in a low voice. "I send you two million dollars every month, right on time. Why are you telling the whole internet I only give you $200?"

Seconds later, his assistant texted him, "Mr. Costa, last month's two million dollars is already gone. I really couldn't stop her. Mrs. Costa says if she doesn't get that ten-million-dollar pink diamond necklace from Sotheby's today, she'll burn the villa down!"