Chapter 2

By the time Joel realized I was gone, I was already home.

That evening I was on the couch watching a show when Joel looked at me, furious.

He yanked his tie loose in irritation, gulped down a big mouthful of water, and demanded:

"Catherine Fox! Can't you rein in your temper?"

His voice was heavy, edged with anger.

"Gillian's mother was in the hospital, all of us were there, and you just up and left on your own. Did you even think about how Gillian felt?"

I stared straight at him.

The warm yellow light fell over his head, and the eyes that had once been full of tenderness were now utterly cold.

"Joel, what did you do when my mother was diagnosed with coronary heart disease?"

He froze where he stood.

"You told me she was old, that saving her would be a waste, that she'd just suffer through it and drain society's resources."

"But Gillian Simmons's mother only had high blood pressure, and you spent a fortune to bring in an authoritative team and even got hold of ARB, a powerful blood pressure medication."

I recounted it calmly. "Gillian Simmons's mother was sick and her boyfriend never showed up from start to finish, yet there you were, eagerly running around taking care of everything."

Joel rubbed his brow in frustration. "There's nothing between Gillian and me. Stop imagining things."

"Imagining things," I scoffed. "You used every bit of your money and power to treat Gillian Simmons's mother, but you left my mother to sit and wait for death."

His face darkened in an instant.

"Catherine, don't blow this out of proportion. What I did about your mother was for her own good too."

I cut in. "For my mother's own good, how nice."

"Your 'for her own good' just means letting her wait to die."

My words left him speechless, his expression truly ugly.

Then he took a check out of his suit pocket and neatly wrote down an amount.

He raised his hand and tossed it at me.

I watched the check drift lightly past me and settle on the floor.

"Is that enough money to save your mother's life?"

His voice was cold.

"Use the money on that check however you want. It's enough to save ten mothers like yours."

Looking at the check on the floor, all I felt was that he was handing me charity.

Even now he still didn't understand what I was really angry about.

Of course. Five years together, and when had he ever understood?

Just then, my phone rang abruptly.

When he saw who was calling, Joel drew a sharp breath, reined in his emotions, and said:

"Gillian? Your sister-in-law is just throwing a little tantrum. You're too understanding—don't pay her any mind."

He hung up, looked at the stubbornness in my eyes, and said calmly:

"If you're going to throw a tantrum, at least know the time and place, and know when to stop. Go and cool off."

Then he turned and walked away.

I stood there calmly for a long while before I picked up the check off the floor.

The payee line read Gillian Simmons.

The name had been written out stroke by stroke, enough to show how much care its writer had put into it.

Next to Gillian Simmons, I had always come second in Joel's heart.

I gave a bitter smile, and all at once my nose stung.

In the end I tore the check to pieces and threw them into the air.