Chapter 3

It was the morning of the third day when I woke up.

My phone was on the nightstand. I dragged it over and unlocked it. I'd been out for twenty-four hours, and there was nothing but app notifications. No missed calls from Victoria. No messages. Our chat still ended on that transfer, sitting there like a joke nobody had to say out loud.

I opened her feed.

She'd posted nine photos ten minutes earlier. She was still at Julian's apartment. Warm yellow light, colored beads all over the floor, Victoria sitting on the rug with a pair of tweezers, her face in profile and softer than I'd seen it in years.

The caption read: Someone's a perfectionist and refused to sleep until it was done. Support crew reporting for duty.

Underneath it, a wall of likes and comments from friends they shared.

"God, get a room."

"Since when is Victoria this patient with anybody?"

"Julian's got her domesticated."

"When's the wedding, you two?"

"This is what love's supposed to look like."

Julian said once that bead art looked fun. Victoria remembered. She bought every tool for it and gave him night after night.

Julian said at midnight that he felt like a drink, and she'd drive across the city to sit with him.

Julian ran a fever, and she put down a contract worth nine figures to stay by his bed until morning.

Scrolling back through her feed was like reading someone's love diary.

The cruel part was that the diary used to be mine. At twenty, Victoria would have set the world on fire for a nineteen-year-old me.

I kept going, one photo at a time. Somewhere in there, without any announcement, her wedding ring stopped appearing on her hand.

I couldn't look anymore. I put the phone down and lay there with nothing in my head.

The medication was wearing off. My throat was dry. I wanted water, and I couldn't get out of bed to reach it.

Victoria called just as the next wave crested and broke.

"Dinner at the house tonight." Cold. Certain. The way she always sounded now.

I waited a moment before I answered. "I'm not feeling well."

She gave a short laugh. "Last time it was your leg. What is it this time? How much do you need?"

I didn't say anything.

"Daniel, if your legs still work, get over here. Don't forget where you stand in this family."

She hung up.

For some reason that made me want to laugh. I should have taken the amputation.

When I pushed myself up off the bed, I saw the dark red stain on the sheet. I looked at it for a few seconds. Then I doubled my dose, changed my clothes, and went.

The Sterling house was full of noise, the way it always was. Julian sat beside Eleanor in a good suit, in the chair at the head of the table that belonged to the man of the house. He was feeding her orange segments and had her laughing.

Victoria sat off to the side in an armchair, looking at her phone.

When I came in, the room went quiet for a beat.

A member of the staff pulled out a chair for me at the very end of the long table, as far from the head as the room allowed. I sat down.

The women went back to jewelry and handbags. The men went back to stocks and cars and watches. Nobody spoke to me.

It didn't take long before the deep ache started up in my thigh again. I was sweating through my collar when Eleanor finally seemed to remember there was someone down at the other end of her table.

She frowned.

"Daniel. You've been married to Victoria for three years. You've never once been of use to her career, you don't hold a respectable job of your own, and all you know how to do is put out your hand.

"The Sterlings don't keep freeloaders."