Cage

Chapter 9 

Having landed the gig, I didn’t want to waste any time. After all, I had to make money. 

Post–operation, my mind was still super sharp even though my body was all weak. 

When I called Lina, her voice trembled with emotion. “Melanie, you finally reached out. I thought you’d forgotten about me!” 

Last year, Lina joined us as an intern before becoming my assistant. She was a bit of a free spirit but earnest and dedicated to her work. Most importantly, she could handle isolation, a necessary trait for design work, making her perfect for the position. 

Before leaving the company, I had arranged for someone to look out for her, but it seemed she wasn’t doing well. I cleared my throat, instructing her to bring me the plans and designs for the Radiant Systems project. 

She hesitated. “Melanie, didn’t you drop that project? I’m not sure they’ll hand them over if I 

ask for the files.” 

I said, “Just say Clyde asked for them. Also, tell HR I’ll work from home for the next few days, and you’re my assistant again.” 

I needed my people around when I returned to work. I couldn’t afford to go solo as before. Besides, I might need to keep working indefinitely to afford my medical bills. 

Lina was dumbfounded when she arrived at the hospital. “Melanie, you get hospitalized because of the tumor…” 

I extended my hand weakly. “The files, please. Don’t worry. The surgery went well. I’m not dying anytime soon.” 

I 

But I knew my condition might recur. All I could do was cherish each day and strive to 

make ends meet. 

With tears streaming down her face, Lina handed me the files and a laptop. “I figured you wouldn’t have brought yours. Use mine for now. How are you supposed to work like this? Mr. Crawford is out of line!” 

Her sobs grew louder as she lamented how Clyde had abandoned all his responsibilities. to be with Kayla. 

“They’re scuba diving, cruising… Kayla is posting about it all over social media. And here you are, hospitalized, and he’s off playing with his mistress? Men are all jerks!” 

I tapped her head lightly with my pen. “Don’t lump all men together. It’s just Clyde who’s the problem.” 

After a while, she went out and returned with some fruits, trying to smile. But she hesitated to speak when looking at me. 

“You’ve peeled this apple down to the core,” I noted. 

Embarrassed, she took a bite herself. 

“I’ll get another one for you later. Consider that practice. Melanie, aren’t you angry? Are you and Mr. Crawford getting a divorce?” 

I paused, unsure how to respond. Logically, I wanted a divorce. Our shared assets were substantial, but I only needed enough to cover my medical expenses. 

Emotionally, I didn’t want to leave. Despite everything, Clyde was the only one in my heart, though he never knew. Given my current state, what was there to explain? He wouldn’t listen anyway. 

I handed Lina the annotated files, instructing her to redesign them. “The Radiant Systems project must have caught the higher–ups‘ attention. We can’t afford any slip–ups. I can’t handle the designs now, so you’ll take over. My old desk in the Design Department should still be available. Move there, but don’t tell anyone I’m in the hospital.” 

Lina clutched the files tightly. “Not even Mr. Crawford? He must be unaware, right?” 

“He knows. No need to bring it up.” I shut the laptop with a stoic face. I had informed him of my hospitalization, but he likely didn’t believe me. I had no intention of explaining further. 

Lina lingered in the hospital room, reluctant to leave until a nurse reminded her it was 

time. 

Before leaving, she turned back, handing me her phone. 

“Melanie, you might not care, but Mr. Crawford has crossed the line. How can he use the money you guys share to get Kayla an apartment? That’s like two million, at least.” 

I glanced at Kayla’s social media and saw the cozy, decorated loft apartment. It wasn’t a recent purchase. The caption read, “Our cozy home,” with a photo that included Clyde’s profile in a corner. 

I smiled it away. “Get back to work. It’s more important.” 

Lying in my hospital bed, feeling a fresh pang of pain in my chest, I wondered about Clyde’s generosity toward his lover. Was he genuinely in love with her? 

I 

I remembered my mother, frail and ailing in a rental before she passed. Mrs. Crawford, once glamorous, reduced to living in a tiny apartment with nothing but a bed. She had wished to revisit our old mansion, but we were broke. 

I had begged Clyde, my husband, for a loan. And what had he said? 

Clyde said, “You and your mother don’t deserve my money. Be grateful you’re still alive. You should be atoning for your sins!”