Chapter 3

It happened exactly four years ago. That business dinner was a big deal for Simon.

Simon was allergic to alcohol, but he still kept drinking. I was worried about him, so I kept taking shots for him all night.

We drank the whole night. By morning, he was passed out at home, totally out cold.

With the little cash I had left, I stumbled to the clinic, hoping to get some painkillers.

But the doctor said it wasn't period pain. It was a miscarriage.

I called Simon, crying, but all I got was a sigh.

He said, "I'm sorry, Amy. Mr. Anderson still won't invest."

I held back all my tears and tried to comfort him. "It's okay. I believe you'll succeed."

Now I realized he actually secured the investment that night. But the person he celebrated his success with wasn't me.

A sudden clap of thunder drowned out my words.

Simon moved closer. "What did you say?"

But before I could answer, something seemed to hit him. He grabbed his car keys and rushed out. "Vivian's terrified of thunderstorms. I have to go to her."

I watched him walk away without even glancing back, and let out a scoffing laugh.

Vivian wasn't the only one afraid of thunderstorms. I used to be scared of them, too.

Back then, Simon would stay by my side all night long.

He'd check the forecast ahead of time and whisk me away to a sunny island before the storm rolled in.

But now, the person he was rushing to be with wasn't me anymore.

Simon stopped for a moment at the door, turned back with a warning. "It was my idea to have you take care of Vivian.

"She doesn't know I told you. She's been really moody lately because of her pregnancy, so act like you don't know anything.

"I'll pay you ten times what you usually get."

With that, he walked out without looking back.

Three minutes later, my phone buzzed with a message from Vivian. [Amy, I heard from Simon that you argued again yesterday over a 2-dollar parking fee?

[Didn't I say? I can afford it now. You've helped me so many times since we were kids. Why can't I help you out now that you're having a tough time?]

Reading her caring message, I felt a mix of emotions.

The chat background was still that old photo of us, back when we were young and innocent.

Vivian grew up with nothing, so whenever I got something, I'd have my mom get one for her too.

When she couldn't afford her tuition, I spent all my allowance to cover it for her.

After she failed her art school entrance exam, I dedicated all my free time in freshman year to help her practice.

When she turned eighteen, her dad tried to marry her off to some stranger, and I begged my parents to shell out 30 thousand dollars to get her out of that mess.

I always saw her as my best friend. But I never thought that all my genuine care would only end up with betrayal.

I didn't reply. Instead, I stood up with a blank look on my face.

Limping, I dug around the house and discovered three properties all registered under Vivian's name.

Along the way, I came across 121 photos of Simon and Vivian together.

Eighteen were wedding shots. And I still haven't had my own wedding.

There were seventy-eight shopping receipts and forty-three designer bags.

All of it was worth three million dollars. It was enough to buy me more fancy prosthetic legs than I could ever need.

There was a whole cabinet full of lingerie and condoms. Three of them had already been opened and were still lying in the trash can.

Clutching my phone with its screen half-broken, I took pictures of every corner.

Then, expressionless, I sent them all to Vivian. [So, how exactly are you planning to help me? With the money you got for being my husband's side chick?]

Vivian didn't reply, but, right on cue, Simon returned.