Chapter 5
Halfway through the meal, Gordon lifted his glass and kicked off the conversation. "Tonight's dinner is for two things: first, our mid-year gathering.
"And second, to celebrate Frank. The client was thrilled with last month's project proposal. They said they'd never seen anything so thorough. Every detail really resonated with them."
Everyone chimed in with compliments for Frank.
Emily held her glass, her fingers slowly tracing the rim.
Truth be told, she was the one who put together the first draft of that proposal for Frank.
Last month, Frank had been working overtime for a whole week, coming home to vent about how he couldn't crack the proposal.
Back when Emily ran her bakery studio, she handled everything herself—from picking the location to marketing and supply chain planning—so she was no stranger to writing up plans like this.
She pulled two all-nighters helping Frank sort out his ideas, reorganize the data, and revise the draft three times before they finally got it right.
The day Frank handed it in, he only said, "Thanks, Emily."
And that was the end of it.
Frank stood up with his glass and said, "Nah, it's really thanks to the whole team. I especially want to shout out Sophia.
"Even though she's not feeling well, she pitched in a ton remotely. She used to be in market analysis, and her eye for things is always spot on."
Sophia wasn't there, but when Frank brought up her name, everyone nodded along.
Gordon chimed in, "Totally, Sophia might be under the weather, but her brain's always working overtime."
Emily set her glass down. "You said Sophia was the one who helped?" she asked, locking eyes with Frank.
Frank shot her a smile. "Yeah, she helped me gather the data for the market trends section."
But Emily had gone through more than thirty reports online, organizing all the information herself.
She remembered it vividly. One of those reports was formatted all wrong, and she'd spent a whole hour fixing it up.
Emily didn't call him out right then. She quietly looked down and took a sip of her drink.
Aubrey Woods, the woman sitting across from her, had been watching Emily the whole time.
She leaned in with her glass, her voice low. "Emily, you're not drinking tonight?"
"My stomach's been acting up lately," Emily replied.
Aubrey said, "Oh," and looked away.
But as she walked back to her seat, Aubrey shot Frank a look. Emily couldn't quite figure out what that look meant.
As the dinner was winding down, Frank excused himself to the restroom.
Gordon, glass in hand, wobbled over to Emily, half-drunk, and gave the table a good thump. "Emily, you're really lucky. Frank's a hard worker and a loyal friend.
"Did you know? When Sophia's hospital bills were sky-high, he paid about 20 thousand dollars up front without a second thought. People like that are hard to find these days."
"Yeah, Sophia always says Frank's the one she trusts most," another colleague chimed in.
Emily kept a polite smile on her face. "He's always been like that. And he's got a good heart."
On the way home, Frank was driving, and Emily sat in the passenger seat.
"Gordon had a bit too much to drink tonight and got a little out of hand. Don't take it to heart," Frank said.
"Why did you say Sophia was the one who helped with the proposal?" Emily asked.
Frank's hand paused on the steering wheel. "She did help out. You helped too, but most of what you did was the groundwork. Sophia's input was a bit more specialized."
'Just the groundwork, huh?' Emily leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes.
When they got home, Sophia opened the door to greet them. "You're back! I made some rice pudding. Emily, have a bowl before you go to bed."
As Emily walked past her, she noticed the usual scent of disinfectant was gone.
Now it was perfume. A light gardenia fragrance.
Emily had used that perfume herself before. Frank had bought it for her.
She walked straight into the bedroom without touching the pudding.
*****
Emily found out about the money one weekday afternoon.
She went to the bank to print out her transaction history, just to see how much she'd need to set aside for the baby. The teller handed her three pages of records.
As she flipped to the second page, her fingers froze. There were three transfers.
The first one was two months ago, 20 thousand dollars. The second was a month and a half ago, 13 thousand dollars. The third was three days ago, 15 thousand dollars.
All three were sent to the same name: Sophia Quinn. The notes said "Medical," "Living Expenses," and "Miscellaneous."
Adding the 15 thousand dollars Linda had told her about earlier, that made a total of 60 thousand dollars sent out.
Emily folded up the transaction records and slipped them into her bag.
She didn't go home. Instead, she headed straight to the lawyer's office Linda had set up for her.
The lawyer, John Parker, was in his early thirties, wore square-rimmed glasses, and spoke at a rapid pace.
"Ms. Shaw, could you walk me through what's going on?" he asked.
Emily laid out the bank statements, a copy of her pregnancy test, and the hospital records Linda had dug up for her, one by one on the desk.
She replied, "My husband got me pregnant on purpose, just so he could use our baby's umbilical cord blood and bone marrow to treat his ex-girlfriend's leukemia.
"And he's been secretly transferring our joint savings to her. So far, he's sent at least 60 thousand dollars."