Chapter 9 Pay For Your Sins


    I''d taken the job, so no use screwing around. Money talked, and I needed it bad.


    The surgery had knocked me t, left me weak as a kitten, but my brain hadn''t gone to shit just yet.


    When I called Ellen Potter, her voice wobbled like she was one sniff away from a


    meltdown.


    "Ada! Jesus, you''re finally calling! I thought you''d fucking bailed on me!" she blubbered.


    Ellen was my intern find fromst year, now my full-time assistant. A little all over the ce, sure, but real as theye and dedicated.


    The best part? She could handle the soul-crushing silence of design work, those long stretches where it''s just one and the nk page. She was born for it.


    When I''d walked away from thepany, I''d made sure someone had her back, but from the sound of it, things weren''t exactly sunshine and rainbows.


    I cleared my throat, trying to sound like I had my shit together.. "Grab the old Bright Group proposal and blueprints. Bring them to me."


    She paused, voice shaky. "Ada, didn''t you ditch that project? If I go poking around for those files, they''ll probably tell me to fuck off."


    "Just say Jude''s the one asking. And tell HR I''m working from home for a bit. You''re back as my assistant, got it?"


    If I was wading back into this mess, I needed my own squad. No more flying solo like some stubborn idiot.


    And honestly? I might have to keep grinding just to afford my next hospital bill. Work or die, that was the deal now.


    When Ellen showed up at the hospital, she looked like she''d been hit by a truck. "Ada... you... tumor? Hospital?" she choked out, eyes like saucers.


    I stretched out a trembling hand. "Files. Gimme."


    "Chill, the surgery went fine. I''m not keeling over yet," I said, faking a grin.


    Yet. That word hung in my head like a guillotine. This thing coulde back swinging,


    and I knew it.


    All I had was today, and I''d damn well make it count-starting with stacking cash to keep breathing.


    Ellen was a hot mess, tears streaming as she thrust the files and a beat-upptop


    at


    1. me.


    "Figured you didn''t have one, so use mine," she mumbled, scrubbing at her face. "But, like, how the hell are you supposed to design shit from a hospital bed? Mr. Carson''s


    Chapter 9 Pay for Your Sins


    such a goddamn asshole!"


    She got louder, spitting venom.


    Word was, Jude had ditched everything to y house with Vivian. Diving in crystal waters, sipping cocktails on fancy cruises-Vivian was blowing up her Instagram with those desperate ten-photo carousels every day, acting like she was starring in some cheesy rom.


    "You''re stuck in this hellhole, and he''s out there dicking around with his


    sidepiece?" Ellen fumed. "Men are fucking garbage!"


    I smacked her head lightly with my pen. "Pump the brakes, kid. Not all guys suck-


    just Jude''s a special kind of scumbag."


    She choked back a sob, then bolted out to buy half a fruit market. When she


    came back, she managed a wobbly smile, but every time she looked at me, her eyes


    screamed she was holding something in.


    "Ellen, you''ve butchered this apple to hell," I said, staring at the pathetic core she''d whittled down to nothing.


    She nced at it, sheepish, and took a bite. "Shit, my bad. I''ll hook you up with a better one. This was just practice."


    Then she got real quiet. "Ada, aren''t you, like, pissed? You and Mr. Carson-are you guys done? Like, divorce-level done?"


    My pen stopped dead. Divorce? The word hit like a punch I didn''t seeing. My chest tightened, and I stared at the files in myp, willing them to give me an


    answer.


    Cold logic told me to get the divorce.


    We''d racked up a fortune together, and I wasn''t some gold-digger-I''d just take what I needed to keep the hospital from hounding me.


    But my stupid heart wouldn''t budge. Jude could treat me like garbage, but he was still the only one who''d ever burrowed into my soul and stayed there.


    Fuck, why couldn''t I shake him? He was off living his new life, and was still chained to feelings he would never even notice.


    I caught my reflection in the hospital window and let out a dry, bitter chuckle,


    shaking my head. Look at this wreck of a body. What was the point ofying my heart bare? Even if I tried, he''d just brush me off like lint.


    I thrust the dog-eared files at Ellen, my voice clipped. "Fix these sections, and don''t half-ass it. Someone upstairs is sniffing around the Bright Group project, and we''re not gonna be the ones who screw the pooch."


    "I''m out ofmission for designing full-time, so you''re stepping up," I added. "My office in design should still be empty. Take it over, but zip your lips about me beingid up here."


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    Chapter 9 Pay For Your Sins


    Ellen clutched the files like they''d save her life, her eyes wide as dinner tes. "Even from Mr. Carson? He''s in the dark, right?"


    "He knows," I said, my voice t as a board as I snapped myptop shut. "No need to stir that pot."


    I''d told him! was checking into this ce, but he probably thought I was pulling some drama-queen stunt. I wasn''t about to beg him to give a damn.


    Ellen loitered like she was glued to the spot, dragging it out for another half hour until a nurse finally gave her the boot.


    But right as she hit the doorway, she spun around and shoved her phone in my face, practically vibrating with outrage.


    "Ada, I know you''re above this shit, but Jude''s gone fucking nuclear," she spat. "That money''s half yours, right?


    "How''s he blowing hundreds of thousands on a goddamn apartment for that tramp Vivian? 650 grand, minimum!""


    I nced at her phone, and there it was: Vivian''s Instagram, screaming smug vibes.


    A sleek loft, all warm lights and plush furniture-not some impulse purchase, that''s


    for


    sure.


    The caption was like a kick to the teeth: "Our cozy little love nest." And in one shot, clear as day, was Jude''s profile, caught midugh.


    "Get back to work," I mumbled, my voice barely holding together. "That''s what matters."


    I sank into the bed, a sharp pain slicing through my chest. 650 grand? Jude was throwing cash at his mistress like she was his soulmate.


    Was he really gone for her? Head-over-heels, write-her-a-love-song gone? The thought burned, a slow, ugly fire in my gut.


    Then I saw my mom''s face-her final days in that dingy rental, her frame so frail it barely dented the mattress.


    Mrs. Watson, once the life of every party, reduced to a ghost in a closet-sized apartment with nothing but a lumpy bed.


    She''d wanted onest look at our old vi, but we didn''t have a dime. I''d choked down every shred of dignity and begged Jude, clinging to the faint hope our marriage meant something.


    And what did I get?


    "You and your pathetic mom don''t deserve a fucking cent," he''d sneered. "You''re


    lucky I haven''t cut you offpletely. You''ve got debts to pay for your sins."