Chapter 5

A week later, I got a call from home.

Mom was crying. "Sandy, your father's in the hospital!"

I rushed back. Dad — who already had a heart condition — was lying in the hospital bed, his face the color of ash.

Mom grabbed my hands.

"Someone mailed your father a letter. It said you... it said you were breaking up someone's marriage. That you were the other woman."

"I wasn't!"

"There were photos!"

Mom wiped her eyes. "Screenshots of your messages with Harris. And statements from people at your company."

I snatched the envelope.

The photos were doctored. The chat logs were fabricated — but convincingly. The kind of thing that would fool anyone who wanted to believe it.

"Dad, let me explain—"

My father opened his eyes and looked at me for a long moment. "I believe you." Then he closed them again.

The heart monitor screamed. Doctors rushed in.

I was pushed out of the room.

In the hallway, Harris was standing there. He was holding a fruit basket.

A nurse walked past and murmured, "Harris is such a good man — coming to check on his ex's father like this."

I looked at him. Then I crossed the hall and slapped him as hard as I could.

The basket hit the floor. Fruit scattered everywhere.

"You did this."

"I didn't know—"

"You didn't know?" I grabbed the front of his shirt. "Those photos. Those records. Who else would have them?"

He caught my wrists. "Sandy, calm down!"

"How am I supposed to calm down!" I was screaming. "If anything happens to my father, I will make you pay for it!"

The hospital room door opened. The doctor came out and pulled down his mask.

"I'm sorry. We did everything we could."

My world collapsed in that moment.

Three days later, the funeral. My mother wouldn't let me through the door.

"Get out," she said from behind the closed door. "Your father doesn't want to see you."

I knelt outside from morning until late afternoon.

Harris and Ismael arrived. They bowed their heads in respect.

Ismael saw me and said softly, "I'm so sorry for your loss."

I looked at Harris. My eyes said everything. His face went white.

Ismael touched his sleeve. "Let's go."

They left.

Finally, my mother opened the door.

She looked at me, and there was nothing in her eyes but hatred. "Are you satisfied? Your father is dead. Are you satisfied?"

I crawled forward on my knees and wrapped my arms around her legs.

"Mom..."

"Don't touch me!" She shoved me away. "I don't have a daughter like you!"

I pressed my forehead to the cold tile floor.

A few days after my father's death, I got a call from the company.

"Sandy, you've been terminated."

HR's voice was flat. "Grounds: serious violation of professional ethics. During the western project, you maintained inappropriate relationships with multiple male colleagues."

I went straight to the office and barged into HR. "Show me the evidence."

The manager threw a stack of photos on the table. Work site pictures of me with male colleagues, printed with filthy captions someone had added.

"This is defamation."

"Where there's smoke, there's fire." The manager looked at me. "The company can't keep someone like you on staff."

I went to find Harris. His assistant blocked the door. "Harris is in a meeting."

I waited until dark.

He finally came out of the conference room. When he saw me, his step faltered.

"I know what you're going to say." He spoke first. "This decision came from the company. There's nothing I can do."

"Harris, you set me up."

"It wasn't me." He frowned. "Ismael said—"

"Whatever Ismael says, you just go along with it?"

I stepped toward him. "She destroyed my father. Now she's destroying my career. And you're just going to help her?"

He stepped back. "Sandy, calm down."

"I am calm." I said. "I just want to know — can you sleep at night?"

He didn't answer.

I turned and walked to the elevator. When I got downstairs, people were waiting.

Seven or eight of them, holding signs.

"Homewrecker!"

"Get out of this city!"

Someone threw something at me — red ink. It poured over my head, soaked through my clothes, dripped down to the ground.

I stood there, red running down my skin.

Harris's car came up from the underground garage and stopped at the curb.

He got out, broke up the crowd, then turned and looked at me.

He sighed.

"Sandy, why can't you just handle things with some dignity? Why does it always have to go this far?"

I dragged my hand across my face. Red dripped from my fingers.

"Dignity?" I almost laughed. "Tell me how, exactly."

He got back in his car and drove away.

I went back to my apartment and found the locks had been changed. My bags were sitting outside the door.

The landlord poked his head out. "I packed your stuff. You need to go."

"Why?"

"Someone filed a complaint. Said you're a bad influence on the building."

He waved me off. "I'm not renting to you anymore."

I sat down next to my suitcase.

The same suitcase I'd taken out west five years ago. The same one I'd just brought back.

Nothing had changed. Everything had changed.

I sat in a convenience store through the whole night.

The city woke up in the morning light.

It was beautiful. But I didn't want to stay in it for another minute.