Chapter 3

It was Adrian.

"You called?"

His tone was almost gentle.

But the anger filling my chest wouldn't settle.

"You're the one who told Vanessa to cut my allowance in half?"

"Yes."

"Adrian, if you really don't care about this baby at all, then send me $3,000 right now. I'll take care of it myself."

"What is this nonsense?"

A thread of irritation crept into his voice.

"I cut it in half so you'd stop wasting money on useless things. Use what's left to eat properly."

My fingers could barely keep hold of the phone.

"And before you cut it in half, was I eating properly then? I guess Mr. Preston has forgotten what things actually cost. Since when did a meal cost so little in Mr. Preston's world?"

Silence on the other end.

A long time passed before he spoke.

"Sophia, you're the one who's completely out of touch with money. Even after being cut in half, it's still more than most people spend. If you want money, just say so. You don't need to come up with some ridiculous excuse about not having enough money for food."

He was about to hang up.

Then something seemed to occur to him.

"I'll transfer more money to you. Stop stealing."

And he hung up.

A moment later, a transfer came through from Vanessa.

One dollar.

"Mrs. Preston, Mr. Preston says if you're still this greedy, he really will divorce you."

My grip tightened around the phone.

One dollar.

Plus the $1.80 already in my account.

$2.80.

One piece of bread cost a dollar fifty.

It was all I had for both breakfast and lunch.

By evening, I was standing in front of the bakery at the entrance to the complex, watching the lid lift off the steamer.

My eyes went still.

"You again. Are you buying or not? $1.50 each. Three for $3."

"Could I… could I buy one for a dollar?"

"No can do. We run on thin margins here. Can't afford to take a loss."

I turned away, deflated.

I kept telling myself that if I couldn't see it or smell it, maybe I wouldn't crave it.

But the hunger was real.

As I wandered the street, I saw a shopkeeper sweeping up expired food.

She was putting the crumbs and leftover pieces into a bag to throw away.

I spoke up carefully.

"Um... are you selling those?"

She glanced at me.

"Hey, aren't you that gold digger, Mr. Preston's wife?"

I waved my hands quickly. "No… that's not me."

"Right, of course. A woman who squeezed that much money out of Mr. Preston wouldn't be here begging for scraps."

I swallowed.

"This… could I buy half a bag for a dollar?"

She stared at me, startled.

"Even half of that... I'll take whatever I can get."

My voice trailed off.

In the end, she sold me the whole bag for fifty cents.

That left me with eighty cents. I begged her to knock off twenty, and she sold me a bottle of water that normally went for a dollar in the shop.

I went home to a dark and silent apartment.

I didn't dare waste a cent of electricity.

I curled up by the window and ate the leftover bread pieces under the glow of the neon signs outside, shoving them into my mouth like I was starving.

A piece caught in my throat.

I hurried to twist off the cap.

My weak fingers couldn't get a grip. I wrenched at it for ages.

When it finally gave, my hand slipped.

The bottle hit the floor.

More than half the water spilled out.

I snatched it up, desperate, trying to tip it into my mouth.

There was only a swallow left at the bottom.

Tears spilled down my face.

I clutched the water bottle tight.

My eyes fell on the tap.

The bottled water delivery service charged a minimum of $2 per order.

It had been a long time since I'd let them come.