The Blood-Stained Cheque

Chapter 3 The Final Payment

Mia stepped out. Julian's diamond necklace still circled her throat, bright against the dress she had worn in the VIP ward. She leaned against the hood and looked over the neighbors gathering outside their apartments.

She waited until she had an audience.

“Oh, darling. Did you really think this would last?” She smiled at me. “You were a fun little experiment, but you couldn't handle the pressure. You failed the test.”

The needle wound in my arm throbbed with each beat of my heart. I kept my eyes on her.

Mia came closer and pulled a cheque from her designer clutch.

“Julian isn't heartless. Here's a little something for your time. A consolation prize.”

She dropped it at my feet. The paper landed face-up in the dirt. Five hundred thousand dollars was more money than I had earned across three jobs, and Mia offered it as payment for watching my marriage become a joke.

Julian ran out of the building. He had wiped the grease from his face, though a gray streak remained near his ear. His posture had changed too. The neighbors saw the CEO from the hospital instead of the laborer who had lived downstairs.

“Mia, what are you doing?” His gaze landed on the cheque. “Serena, wait. Let's go inside and talk.”

He reached for my elbow. I moved before he could touch me.

The five hundred thousand stayed in the dirt. The neighbors murmured behind me, but I watched Julian.

I took my own cheque from my jacket. Ten thousand dollars, earned by letting BioGen inject another compound into my arm. The dried blood had made one corner rough against my thumb.

I walked up to him. For the first time that night, he looked afraid.

I threw the cheque at his chest.

It struck his shirt and fell between his shoes.

“This is the last ten thousand you're owed,” I said. “We're even.”

An old dark sedan pulled up to the curb at the time I had arranged. I turned from Julian and Mia and opened the back door.

The seat springs groaned under my weight. I shut the door and gave the driver the signal to go.

In the side mirror, Julian bent to pick up the bloodstained cheque. He rubbed the dark corner between his fingers, then looked toward the shrinking car.

For three years, he had studied my face for proof that I loved him. He had never studied the money closely enough to see what I was trading for it.