Chapter 3

The door clicked shut behind me. Ethan was gone.

I stood there for a couple of seconds, stunned, before my mind caught up. I found my lawyer's number and dialed. "Hello, I'd like to have a divorce agreement drafted as soon as possible. We don't have shared property, only some debts to split. The sooner, the better. Thank you."

I hung up. Outside, the rain had picked up. My own breathing felt hot and frantic—maybe from standing in the rain earlier, maybe from the emotional storm I'd just been through.

I dragged my feet back to the bedroom. When I checked my temperature, it was 101.3°F. I had a fever.

I rummaged through the medicine cabinet and found only one expired fever tablet. But I couldn't be bothered to care. I popped it with some water, praying I'd sleep it off and the fever would break.

But it was worse than I thought.

In the middle of the night, I woke up, my body screaming in pain, like a volcano was erupting inside me.

This wasn't going to work.

Half delirious from the fever, my first instinct was to call Ethan for help.

The busy signal kept droning in my ear.

Only after the third busy tone did it hit me that Ethan was probably on a plane to Nordica. How could he even pick up?

I let out a dry laugh, which only made my throat hurt more.

I laughed at myself for being so delirious—still hoping he'd come through.

I thought about calling a coworker instead. I hated bothering people, but in this state, pride didn't matter anymore. I'd just have to swallow it this once.

But what came through the receiver was a cold, automated voice. "Sorry, your service has been suspended due to an unpaid balance. Please top up to restore service."

Suspended? I tried to add credit and tapped into the payment page.

There was no way to pay. Our account balance was 0.41 dollars. It was not even enough for the cheapest phone plan.

My phone service and data were bundled together. No calls meant no internet either.

I couldn't even send a message asking for help. I was on my own.

Luckily, the map app still worked. Squinting through the haze, I searched and found the nearest 24‑hour hospital—about three miles away. By car, it wasn't that far.

I staggered into the garage and flipped on the light. But the place was completely empty.

That was when it clicked—Ethan had taken the car in for modifications the day before.

I remembered suggesting we rent a car just in case. After all, we lived in the suburbs, and getting around wasn't easy.

Ethan had shaken his head right away. "There's a bus stop and a subway station right outside. Why waste the money? I'm just upgrading the exhaust. They work fast—I'll have it back tomorrow.

"What could possibly go wrong? Stop worrying about nothing."

But now, there was no car.

I stood there, shivering, barely able to stay on my feet. If the fever kept up, I might actually die alone in this house.

No. I had to get to the hospital.

Using the last of my strength, I dug out the thickest down jacket from the closet, pulled on two pairs of pants, yanked my socks up high, and wrapped a scarf clumsily around my neck and face, trying to trap whatever warmth I could.

I couldn't even lift an umbrella, so I threw on a raincoat instead.

I pushed the door open. Rainport at three-thirty in the morning felt like a massive, damp refrigerator. The cold cut straight to my bone. Every step felt unreal, like I was walking on air, dizzy and unsteady.

I kept my head down and forced myself forward. I didn't dare stop.

Then a few filthy shoes appeared in front of me, blocking my way.

I lifted my head slowly and saw three men stood there. They were soaked to the skin, reeking of alcohol and cigarettes. They were leering at me, eyes lit with a sick excitement.

It hit me in an instant that something was very wrong.

I spun around to run—but one of them grabbed me and yanked back the hood of my raincoat. "Dressed this warm?" he sneered. "What're you hiding under there, huh?"

I screamed, my voice raw and panicked. "No—get away from me!"

But two of them were already dragging me toward the darker edge of the trees.