Chapter 3: Served Cold
340 words
Elena crushed the liability waiver in her fist and threw it at Thorne’s feet before the guards shoved her out the back exit. She stood on the pavement, barefoot and shivering in her thin hospital gown, the city wind biting into her exposed, rotting flesh. She managed to hail a cab only by flashing the diamond engagement ring that was now the only purely beautiful thing she owned.
When she stumbled into the penthouse, clutching the scarf she’d wrapped around her face, the apartment was chaos. Open suitcases lay on the Persian rug. Greg, her fiancé, was sweeping his designer watches into a leather bag.
"Greg?" she croaked, leaning against the doorframe. "Help me. He... he destroyed my face."
Greg turned. He didn't look worried. He looked annoyed. "I heard. Thorne called me. Said you went crazy and got infected because you're dirty."
"What? No!" Elena unwound the scarf, desperate for comfort, for the man who promised to love her forever to hold her. "Look at what he did!"
Greg flinched, physically recoiling as the blackened necrosis came into view. "Jesus, Elena! Put that away! You look like a monster."
"I need a doctor, Greg. I need a divorce attorney or someone who can sue him. Please."
Greg zipped his bag shut. "I can't be seen with that. My image is everything in this town. You know that." He walked past her, careful not to let his coat brush against her. "The engagement is off. And don't try to use the joint account. I've already transferred the funds."
He opened the door, the hallway light casting a long shadow over her broken form. "Oh, and I brought the lease. It's in your name now. Good luck paying for it."
Elena stood frozen as the door clicked shut. She reached for her phone to call for help, to order a car, anything. She opened her banking app.
DECLINED.
He hadn't just left. He had canceled her credit cards on his way out the door, leaving her penniless and rotting.
End of Chapter 3
