Chapter 2

Jennifer was faster.

She darted over, grabbed my phone out of my hand, and ended the call with a sharp click.

"Are you crazy?" she snapped.

She pointed at my nose, her words spraying spit all over my face.

She screamed, "Those doctors at St. Peter Hospital are butchers. Michelle, are you trying to get your husband killed?"

I didn't bother wiping my face.

I said, "Jennifer, St. Peter Hospital is the best hospital in town. They've got the best equipment and the most professional doctors. Henry is sick"

"No way," Jennifer's voice was so sharp that it could shatter glass.

"He has to go to Ms. Miller's private clinic. That's what they treat."

I stared at her flushed face.

Last time, she said the same thing, and I fell for it.

This time, I took a longer look at her.

She avoided my gaze, her eyes flickering nervously.

Henry got up from the floor, no longer acting so crazy.

"Michelle, Ms. Miller's place is safe. I promise I won't hurt anyone there. I'm begging you, please," Henry pleaded.

I lowered my eyes, staying silent for a few seconds.

"Okay," I said quietly. "I'll listen to you, Jennifer. As long as Henry gets better, that's all that matters."

The tension melted away from Jennifer's face.

Henry let out a long sigh of relief and turned to head into the bedroom to pack his things.

I said I was going to get his insurance card.

I walked into the bedroom and pulled open the drawer of the nightstand.

The bankbook with the 100 thousand dollars I'd saved over ten years was gone.

When I opened the jewelry box, the gold bracelet my mom had left me had all been swapped out for fake, discolored copper bangles.

I stared at those worthless copper bangles for three seconds.

Back then, I didn't find out about this until three years later.

I remembered sitting in front of that empty drawer and crying my heart out the whole night.

This time, I quietly closed the drawer and walked away.

It was alright. I'd deal with it.

I wouldn't forget this debt.

They were in the living room, making a lot of noise and laughing out loud as they packed.

While everyone was distracted, I quietly tucked the original "Severe Mania" diagnosis I'd hidden in my pocket into my personal folder.

Henry sentenced himself.

And I'd see it carried out.

The car from the clinic arrived to pick him up.

Before getting in, Henry was still putting on a show, gripping the car door frame for dear life, turning back to look at me with tears streaming down his face.

"Michelle, I'll come back when I'm better. Take care of yourself and our son," he said.

I waved at him, smiling like the perfect wife, even though my heart was breaking.

The car drove away.

Jennifer's grief was gone in a heartbeat.

She turned around, hands on her hips, and looked at me. "Alright, quit standing around.

"Henry's special care costs 17 thousand dollars a month. Tomorrow, bring the house deed and get it mortgaged."

I looked at Jennifer, so bossy and entitled, and suddenly found it funny.

"Alright, Jennifer. I'll go pay up at the clinic right now," I said.

Paying up was real.

But what I was handing over was the fare for their one-way ticket to hell.

Juliette was standing at the clinic entrance, wearing a white lab coat.

She had on high heels, her hair was curled perfectly, and her lips were a bold, striking red.

She looked way more like the queen of the place than any nurse.

When she saw Jennifer and me coming, she looked me over, her eyes sizing me up like I was easy prey, another cash cow walking in.

"Ms. Reed, you're here," she said.

She smiled and stepped aside to let us in.

"Henry's not in a good state today, so don't get too close," she warned.

I followed her inside.

The hallway stretched on, and no matter how strong the disinfectant was, it couldn't cover that unsettling sourness underneath.

Juliette led me into an office, sat down across from me, and pulled a piece of paper out of the drawer.

"Here's the breakdown of the fees," she said.

She slid the paper across the desk to me, her nails painted a bright, eye-catching red.

She said, "24-hour personal care, 17,000 dollars a month. Plus nutritional meals, counseling, and emergency sedatives. You'll need to pay a 170,000-dollar deposit for the first month."

It was 170 thousand dollars

Last time around, the moment I heard that number, my hands started shaking.

This time, I looked up at her, calm as ever.

I asked, "What kind of special care costs 17,000 dollars a month?"

Juliette's smile stayed perfectly in place. "Ms. Reed, your husband's case is rare. Ordinary staff wouldn't stand a chance with him.

"I'm risking my neck looking after him myself. Do you honestly think 17,000 dollars is too much for that?"

"July's right," Jennifer jumped in, nodding eagerly.

All of a sudden, she grabbed my arm, leaned in, and lowered her voice. "Michelle, Henry's life matters more than money. Don't pinch pennies now."

I looked at her, all eager and fawning, almost like she was trying to butter Juliette up.

"Since when were you and Ms. Miller so close, Jennifer?" I asked.

Jennifer froze for a second.

"I... I called to ask about it before," she stammered.

"Wait, Jennifer, you called her 'July'," I said, raising an eyebrow.

Jennifer's face went stiff for a second.

"I... I must've gotten the names mixed up. Maybe I heard it on the phone," she mumbled, quickly looking away.

Juliette's smile cracked for a moment, but she smoothed it over in an instant.

"Ms. Reed, let's get back to the fees," Juliette said.