Chapter 2 Cancel Everything

Sixty days before the apocalypse

Adrian followed her toward the taxi rank, still explaining why she should listen to him.

“You're upset. You haven't eaten. This is exactly why I didn't want to talk here.”

Nessa stopped beside a lit advertisement for a new waterfront tower. On its screen, an impossibly clean family smiled beside a rooftop pool. She remembered that building's dark windows after the flood and the people signaling from its upper floors.

“You've been talking for three minutes,” she said. “I heard you.”

“Then give me your phone.”

She looked at his outstretched hand.

“So you can cancel something in my name?”

His expression changed. “I was going to show you the messages.”

“You can send them.”

Celia had stayed near the restaurant. She was typing furiously, whether to Adrian or someone else Nessa didn't care. For once, she refused to spend the evening learning what every person involved wanted from her.

The taxi arrived.

Adrian put his hand on the open door. “We have deposits. Guests. My mother has invited half her friends.”

“You'll need to tell her.”

“We made those plans together.”

“You made another one without me.”

She waited until he moved his hand, then got in.

The driver asked for her destination. Nessa gave a hotel address instead of her apartment. Adrian had guest access to the building and an emergency key she no longer wanted him using. She could solve that in daylight. Tonight she needed a room where nobody expected her to explain herself.

In the taxi, she called the bank through its usual service channel. She removed the extra card, ended permissions on her personal accounts, and asked them to flag any new request claiming to be hers that required separate confirmation.

The wedding account needed a different process. Some money was jointly committed, some belonged to vendors, and cancellation fees would be real. She requested the transaction record and stopped new spending while ownership and refunds were checked.

She would lose money. She intended to lose it once, with a clear end to the loss.

At a traffic light, a bride crossed the pavement with white trainers under her dress. Her partner held their takeaway bag while she adjusted her veil. Nessa looked away before the tears came. She still wanted the ordinary life she had expected to have. Knowing it would end did not make losing it painless.

She took off her ring. There was a pale groove beneath it. She photographed it with the other items she would return, then put it in a zipped pocket. Even her anger needed somewhere safe to go tonight.

At the hotel, she paid for two nights and opened her laptop.

Her list had four headings: money, shelter, supplies, transport.

Under supplies, she wrote water first.

Then she stopped. Without somewhere to put it, a large delivery would create another problem. She added a small immediate purchase and a separate column for long-term storage. Her first plan would be useful, not impressive.

The phone kept lighting up beside her.

Adrian: You're throwing away our future.

Beatrice: Please tell me this is a misunderstanding.

Celia: We should speak woman to woman.

Nessa put the phone face down.

For years, Adrian had been the person she called after a hard day. Now she had a hard day he had caused, and muscle memory still wanted his voice to make it better. She hated that part most. Seeing the betrayal clearly had not removed every habit built around him.

She called Leila instead.

“Are you working?”

“Just finished. What happened?”

Nessa told her enough. No story about a misunderstanding. No excuse for Celia. No apology for calling.

Leila listened, then said, “Do you want company?”

“Tomorrow. I need to do something tonight before I lose my nerve.”

“What?”

“Keep my own money.”

She opened the company email she had avoided all week. The approved buyout of her shares was scheduled to pay on April seventh. Nine hundred and forty thousand dollars, with the documents already signed.

Adrian knew the date. He had suggested combining the proceeds with his new venture because they were practically married anyway.

Last time, she had agreed after his apology. The venture swallowed the payout before Adrian disappeared. She wasn't funding that future again.

There was a new message in the thread.

Request received to amend settlement instructions.

Nessa read the proposed recipient account twice.

It wasn't hers.