While I Was Bleeding Out, He Lit Lanterns For Her

Five days passed. Five days of forced bed rest, transfusions, and whispered consultations with doctors who looked at her with a mixture of pity and alarm. The heavy curtains of the VIP room were drawn back, letting the afternoon sunlight spill across the floor.

June's color had returned slightly. She was sitting up, watching Vera peel an apple with a small paring knife.

Suddenly, Vera stopped. The knife hovered over the apple. She was staring at her phone resting on the table, her face turning a sickly shade of pale.

June noticed the shift in the room's energy immediately. "What is it? Is it him again?"

Vera hesitated, biting her lower lip. Slowly, she picked up the phone and handed it to June.

The headline on the financial news app was bold and massive: Cole Compton Pledges $10 Million to Establish the 'Alycia Beasley Medical Wing'.

June's eyes scanned the article. The text praised Alycia as a "rising star in the medical field," claiming the donation was to fund her groundbreaking research on neuro-blockers.

Below the text was a photo of Alycia. She was wearing a pristine white lab coat, standing behind a podium with a fake, humble smile plastered on her face. Cole stood right beside her, clapping.

A wave of intense physical nausea hit June's stomach.

Alycia's "groundbreaking research" was a lie. It was a direct plagiarism of an unpublished thesis June had written when she was twenty years old. Alycia had stolen it during a visit to the Compton estate.

June's fingers traced the edge of the phone. The last remaining thread of her patience snapped.

Cole was willing to throw ten million dollars at his mistress to buy her a fake reputation, yet he had restricted June to a meager allowance, monitoring every grocery bill she paid.

June handed the phone back to Vera. Her voice was terrifyingly calm.

"I'm checking out."

Vera dropped the apple. "Are you crazy? The doctor said you need at least another full week of bed rest!"

June threw the blanket off her legs and swung her feet over the edge of the bed. "I've been rotting in this room for almost a week. I have work to do."

Despite Vera's protests, June signed the discharge papers against medical advice.

As they walked through the hospital lobby, the large overhead televisions were broadcasting a live feed of the ribbon-cutting ceremony for the new medical wing.

Cole was standing at the microphone. His voice echoed through the hospital lobby.

"Alycia's brilliance deserves to be seen by the world," Cole said, looking at Alycia with deep admiration. "This is just the beginning."

June stood near the pharmacy counter, wearing large dark sunglasses. She watched the screen.

A young nurse standing nearby sighed dreamily. "Mr. Compton is so generous to his girlfriend. His ex-wife must be kicking herself for losing him."

Vera lunged forward, ready to scream at the nurse, but June grabbed her arm, her grip surprisingly strong.

"Not now," June whispered, pulling Vera toward the exit. "Let them climb a little higher. The fall will break their necks."

They pushed through the revolving doors. The crisp New York air hit them, smelling of exhaust and money.

June turned to Vera. "Take me to the bank."

"Which one?" Vera asked, pulling her keys out. "The one near the estate?"

"No," June said flatly. "UBS. The private wealth management branch on Wall Street."

Vera stopped walking. She stared at June. "UBS? June, you need a minimum of ten million in liquid assets just to open the door there."

The corner of June's mouth twitched upward into a cold, sharp smile. "I have an appointment."

Vera drove the Porsche downtown in stunned silence.

June stared out the passenger window as the towering skyscrapers of the financial district swallowed the sky.

She thought about the patent she had registered when she was twenty. The drug that had revolutionized nerve pain treatment. She had hidden her identity to protect herself, and later, to protect Cole's fragile ego when they married.

He thought she was a useless trophy wife who couldn't survive without his credit cards. He had no idea she was the bank.

The Porsche pulled up to the massive, fortress-like entrance of the UBS building.

June stepped out of the car. She adjusted the collar of her simple black coat. Even without designer clothes, her posture had completely changed. The submissive slouch was gone.

She looked back at Vera, who was staring at the building in intimidation.

"Ready to be surprised?" June asked.