Chapter 2

It was the seventh day of the lockdown.

I crouched on the balcony, counting my supplies. We had about half a bag of flour left, a small half bucket of cooking oil, and the vegetables in the fridge would last for two more days.

I triple-checked the bank account balance. The joint account had just over 1,400 dollars left.

I remembered that when my salary hit last month, there was almost 150 thousand dollars in this account.

I scrolled through the transaction history, checking each one.

[40 thousand dollars sent to L&V on January 15th.]

[28 thousand dollars sent to L&V on January 21st.]

[50 thousand dollars sent to L&V on February 2nd.]

[30 thousand dollars sent to L&V on February 8th.]

L&V was Linnea.

Four transfers over a span of twenty-four days, totaling 148 thousand dollars, almost drained our joint account in four separate transactions.

The last transfer was made two days before the lockdown.

150 thousand dollars was three years' worth of my savings.

After I left my job at the research institute, Damien told me his salary was more than enough, so I could just stay home and focus on taking care of Chiara.

But the mortgage was still coming out of my savings from before we got married, with 1,400 dollars deducted every month.

Utilities, Chiara's supplements, and all our daily expenses were paid from the joint account.

Damien deposited 5 thousand dollars into the account every month, and my savings were in there, too.

Now it was all gone, with only 1,400 dollars left, barely enough to cover next month's mortgage.

I sat on the little stool out on the balcony, the sun warming my back, but it couldn't thaw the chill inside me.

Damien sent a message: [Honey, how's everything over there? Are you and Mom doing okay?]

I stared at the word "honey" for a long time.

I typed: [Where's the money from our joint account?]

Three minutes later, he replied: [What money?]

I asked: [148 thousand dollars to L&V.]

Damien read it, yet he didn't reply.

Ten minutes later, Damien called. "Catherine, hear me out. I put that money into an investment. It's supposed to pay off big time. When I get back, you'll see."

"L&V is Linnea," I said.

There was silence.

"She's helping me manage some investments overseas. You wouldn't get it." Damien defended himself.

"I wouldn't get it?" I let out a short laugh. "Damien, I have a PhD in epidemiology, and I minored in statistics back in college.

"Want to take a wild guess at what else I found when I went through your spending records from the past six months?"

He hung up.

I didn't call him again.

I took a screenshot of the call log and saved it in the folder I named Evidence.

Chiara shuffled out of the bathroom, leaning on her cane. She looked a little off. "Catherine, I'm feeling a bit dizzy."

I helped her sit down and took her blood pressure. Her systolic pressure was 168.

Chiara had a history of high blood pressure, and with her eating so poorly these days and her meds running low, her condition was getting shaky.

I tore through the medicine cabinet. There were only three antihypertensive pills left.

I called the community hotline, but all I got was a busy signal.

I tried dialing emergency services, but I was left waiting in line.

I set the phone aside and looked at Chiara's pale face.

The same woman who'd helped her son plot against me was now shaking, her body pressed against my shoulder.

"Catherine, I don't feel well," she whispered.

"I know," I replied, split one of the last three pills, and gave it to her. "Take this for now. I'll figure something out."

I hated her, but I couldn't bear to see her die in front of me.

Lucia shared the blood pressure meds with me.

She lived right across the hall, was in her fifties, and used to be a nurse at the local health center.

When I knocked on her door, Lucia was out in the hallway, busy mixing up disinfectant solution.

"Blood pressure meds? I've got about half a box left. What type does Chiara need?" Lucia asked.

"Nifedipine extended-release tablets," I replied.

Lucia rummaged through her medicine cabinet and handed me a strip of pills.

"That should last her ten days. By then, the community pharmacy should be back up and running," she said.

"Thanks, Lucia," I said.

"Did you study medicine?" Lucia suddenly asked.

I hesitated for a second. "I used to, but not anymore."

"What field?" she pressed.

"Epidemiology," I answered.

Lucia's gaze changed as she looked at me. "Catherine, do you realize we don't have any real experts in this area? There are only two doctors in the community, and they're run off their feet.

"The other day, there was a suspected case in Building 3. Everyone was scared out of their minds, but there wasn't even anyone who could tell if it was legit."

I kept quiet. I hadn't touched my field in three years.

Damien always said, "One person earning is enough. You staying home to look after Mom beats everything else."

Chiara always said, "What's the use of all that schooling for a woman? You end up at home with the kids."

My publication record stopped three years ago.

Every New Year's Day, my mentor, Victor Cross, would send me a message: [Catherine, the door to the institute is always open for you.]

Every year, I'd just reply, [Thanks, Professor Cross,] and then go back to making soup, grocery shopping, and preparing medicine for Chiara.

When I got home, Chiara looked a bit better.

She'd already taken her meds and was lounging on the couch, watching TV. "Catherine, check out this news."

The TV was showing a report about Damien's company, saying they'd donated a batch of medical supplies overseas.

The screen flashed, and I saw Damien.

He was looking sharp in a suit, standing among a group of people, with a banner for the donation ceremony in front of him.

The background was the sky of Olianken, so blue that it almost hurt to look at.

Next to him stood a woman in a black blazer, her hair up in a neat bun, a necklace at her throat.

I recognized that necklace.

It was a Swarovski Swan necklace, the one Damien gave me for our anniversary last year.

I only wore it once. I thought it was too flashy and put it away in my jewelry box.

Now it was hanging around Linnea's collarbone, catching the light on camera.

Chiara didn't recognize it.

She only cared about her son. "Damien's lost weight. His face is all sharp now. You know, he's all alone out there. I wonder if anyone's taking care of him."

Of course, someone was taking care of him well. And she was wearing my necklace.

I went into the kitchen and cranked the tap open as far as it would go. The roar of the water drowned out everything else.

I stood there for ages, holding onto the edge of the sink, my nails digging into my palms.

The water ran through my fingers, cold as ice.

When I turned off the tap, my phone started ringing.

The screen lit up. It was Victor.

He said, "Catherine, you know the situation. We're really short-handed at the institute right now, and your skills in epidemiological modeling are the best we've got."

"Victor, it's been three years since I last worked in the field," I said.

"Three years is nothing. Your mind's still sharp, and you've kept up with the research. I saw your browsing history. You never stopped checking the journal database, and your VIP access is still active," Victor replied.

I stayed silent.

He knew I never stopped reading papers.

Damien had no idea, and neither did Chiara. Only Victor knew I'd never truly given it up.

"Start as a volunteer, no pressure. But Catherine, your talents are wasted on household chores," Victor said.

I hung up and stood on the balcony, gazing down at the empty community garden below.

The swing set was draped with fallen leaves; there was no children's laughter anywhere.

The whole city felt like it had been put on pause. But some things needed to start moving again.