Chapter 3
"No idea. She left right after signing the papers, just walked out with a backpack," the maid replied.
Randal slipped the pill bottle into his pocket and turned to leave.
He headed straight for the medical center.
Cassidy's office was at the end of the cardiology wing. When he pushed the door open, she was reviewing medical scans.
She looked up, seemed surprised for a second, then broke into a smile.
She said, "You're back? Why didn't you give me a heads-up?"
Randal said, "Who sent Annie an email from my computer three days ago?"
His tone made it clear it wasn't a question.
Cassidy's smile froze on her face.
"I don't know what you mean," she replied.
Randal said, "Derek said you came to my office twice. I can pull up the security logs and check the email login IP. Should I go ahead and do that?"
Three seconds of silence hung in the air.
Cassidy set the scans down and slowly leaned back in her chair.
"It was me," she admitted.
Then she stood up, her eyes welling with tears and her voice trembling.
She said, "Randal, look at her. She's a dietitian, someone from a matchmaking agency. She has no idea what your world is like. Being with her is just—"
"How did you help me?" Randal cut her off.
His voice was low.
Cassidy fell silent as if choked.
Randal said, "So you helped drive my wife away? Helped me spend 21 million dollars on a divorce I didn't even know was happening?"
Cassidy said, "It wasn't me who spent the 21 million—"
Randal snapped, "I know it wasn't you. Orville saw the email sent from my account and followed the agreement. But you sent the email that started all this."
Randal stared at her.
He added, "You're off the joint project starting today. Next year's conference report will have someone else's name on it."
Cassidy said, "Randal!"
Randal continued, "From now on, I want nothing to do with you."
He turned and left, shutting the door behind him.
Cassidy stood frozen, shaking uncontrollably.
She had waited three years. From undergrad to residency, from residency to attending, from attending to associate chief. She had thought that once I disappeared, everything would return to how it was.
But there was never a spot for her on that path.
Randal stepped out of the hospital and got into his car.
He dialed my number. It was off.
He sent a WhatsApp message. The message went unanswered.
He set his phone on the steering wheel, rested his head against the seat, and shut his eyes.
Everything was quiet inside the car.
He remembered one night last month, after finishing a surgery late, coming home and passing by the guest room. A sliver of light escaped from under the door.
He didn't knock.
He didn't think it was necessary.
Now, that room was empty. Even if he knocked, no one would answer.
The nearly empty bottle of stomach medicine in his pocket pressed against his leg.
He picked up his phone and dialed Orville.
"Find out where Annie is living now," he said.
Orville paused, then said, "No need, Mr. Morales. She bought a duplex villa in Belleview Gardens three days ago. Paid in full. I handled all the paperwork myself."
Randal didn't say a word.
I spent 9 million out of the 21 million on a house.
He didn't even know what kind of house I liked.
Even after a year, he knew nothing about me.
Over at Belleview Gardens, things looked totally different.
I was barefoot, standing in the garden, watering the lawn.
The sunset was gentle, and the water from my watering can glittered on the blades of grass.
This afternoon, I did something I had never done back at the Morales' residence.
I made a trip to the furniture mall.
I picked out a king-size bed with the softest mattress in the store. Then I chose a set of furniture for the kids' room. The sales rep told me I could start with one set and add more later if I needed.
I told her there was no need.
"I'll take three sets, all exactly the same," I said.
The sales rep gave me a look, probably thinking I was buying for someone else.
"Miss, three sets of kids' beds? How many children do you have?" she asked.
I told her, "Three."
"Triplets?" she blinked in surprise.
"Yeah," I replied.
Her reaction was exactly the same as the ultrasound tech's.
Her smile never faded as I swiped my card. She was probably thrilled to have hit the jackpot for the day.
I spent the entire afternoon getting everything sorted: cribs, strollers, car seats, sterilizers.
I made sure to get three of each.
When I rolled my cart out of the baby supply store, it was stacked sky-high with stuff.
Anyone walking by couldn't help but do a double-take.
I glanced down at my belly and muttered, "You three aren't even born yet, and you've already cost your mom 150 grand. You better treat me well when you grow up."
While I was watering the flowers at home, my parents arrived.
They had gotten off a four-hour bus ride. My dad's back was bothering him, so his legs were shaky as he stepped down, leaning on my mom for support.
In her other hand, my mom carried two plastic bags stuffed with homemade pickles, hard-boiled eggs, and a jar of hot sauce.
When my mom walked in, she was stunned for a moment.
She glanced around the living room, the garden, and finally the kitchen island, her jaw dropping as she kept opening and closing her mouth, speechless.
"Annie, how much did this place cost?" she asked.
"9," I answered.
"9 thousand a month? Are you kidding me? That's way too much," my mom blurted out.
"It's not rented. I bought it. 9 million dollars," I clarified.
My mom nearly let the plastic bags slip right out of her hands.
My dad slowly walked into the garden, took in the grass and the river view, and stared up at the sky for a while.
He didn't ask about the money.
He said, "This place is nice. The kids will have space to run here."
Once my mom snapped out of it, she headed straight for the kitchen.
"The stove is fine. Where's the fridge? I need to put the hard-boiled eggs in there first," she said.
I couldn't help but laugh.
My mom was always like this. No matter how big the house, the first thing she looked for was the refrigerator.
Over dinner, I told them about the triplets.
My mom's fork clattered onto the table.
My dad's hand froze mid-air, still holding his fork.
The room went quiet for about five seconds.
My mom banged her hand on the table.
"Damn. The Corbin family's ancestors must be smiling down on us," she blurted out.
My dad didn't say a word. He set his fork down and looked at me for a long moment.
"Are you holding up okay?" he asked.