Chapter 2 Terms And Conditions

Camila drives fast, both hands on the wheel, her eyes flicking toward Bimbo every few seconds as if checking that she's still breathing. "Say something," Camila says. "You've been quiet for ten minutes. That's not like you." "I'm thinking." "About?" "The contract." Bimbo stares out the window as the city lights blur past. "He didn't just make up those threats tonight. It's all in there. Every clause. I signed it. I read it once and never looked at it again." Camila glances over. "You still have a copy?" "In my desk. I never touched it. Didn't want to." "Well." Camila turns onto Bimbo's street. "Looks like tonight's the night." They pull up outside Bimbo's building. Camila parks crooked and doesn't bother fixing it. She cuts the engine and follows Bimbo inside without asking if she's invited. Inside, Bimbo goes straight to the desk in the corner of her bedroom, pulls open the bottom drawer, and takes out a thick folder with a law firm's name printed on the front. Her hands aren't shaking anymore. They're steady now, cold and steady, the way they get when she knows she has to be strong. She spreads the papers across the kitchen table. Camila makes tea neither of them drinks and sits across from her. "Okay," Camila says. "Read it to me. What does it actually say?" Bimbo flips through the pages, scanning quickly. Years of reading research documents have made legal language easier for her to understand than it should be. "Five-year term," she reads. "Started three years ago. Two years left." She flips to another page. "Early termination by either party triggers full loss of Calder Health Network coverage for named dependents. Named dependents." She looks up. "That's my father. That's the whole clause. One line, and it decides whether he gets to keep his care." "That's disgusting," Camila says. "It's efficient." Bimbo's voice comes out flatter than she means it to. "That's the word David would use. Efficient." She keeps reading. Camila watches her face change with every line, her jaw tightening, her eyes narrowing as something harder takes over. "There's more," Bimbo says. "Public conduct clause. Neither party may engage in behavior that damages the other's public standing during the term." She almost laughs. "He gets to sleep with his secretary in a private room, and I'm the one who'd be in breach if I walked out that door screaming about it." "So report the double standard. Take it to a lawyer." "With what money, Camila? Every account I have ties back to accounts he controls. That was part of the deal too. I gave up separate finances when I signed this. It was supposed to make the marriage look real for the board." She sets the page down and presses her palms against the table. "I didn't think it would matter. I thought-I don't know what I thought. That it would just be paperwork. That we'd figure out something real underneath it eventually." "Bimbo." "I know how that sounds." "It doesn't sound stupid. It sounds like you hoped for something normal in an arrangement that was never normal." Camila reaches across the table and takes her hand. "That's not on you." Bimbo doesn't answer right away. She stares at the contract, at David's signature at the bottom of the last page. Sharp black lines. Confident. Like a man who never doubted he'd hold every card in this marriage. Her phone lights up on the table between them. David's name is on the screen. Camila's eyebrows shoot up. "You want me to answer that?" "No." Bimbo picks it up herself. She takes a breath and answers. "What." "We need to discuss terms," David says. His voice sounds exactly like it did in that private room an hour ago. Calm. Businesslike. Like nothing happened. "I'm reading the terms right now, actually." There's a pause on his end. "Good. Then you already know how this works." "I know you own my father's life because of a piece of paper. I know that much." "That's not how I'd phrase it." "I don't care how you'd phrase it." Her voice cracks a little, and she hates it. She hates that he can still do that to her. "You had a woman against a wall some hour ago. Pregnant. On our anniversary. And you're calling me to talk about terms." Silence. Long enough that she almost thinks he has hung up. "My lawyer will send an amendment tomorrow," David says finally. "Updated public conduct terms. Given tonight." "An amendment." Bimbo laughs, short and sharp. "You cheat on me and send paperwork." "What would you rather I send?" "Nothing from you. Ever again, if I had the choice." "You don't." His voice stays level, but something underneath it shifts. "I'll have the papers sent over in the morning. Goodnight, Bimbo." He hangs up before she can answer. She sets the phone down like it burned her. Camila stares at her, mouth slightly open. "An amendment. He's sending an amendment." "Apparently my husband processes cheating and lawsuits at the exact same speed." Bimbo drags both hands down her face. "God, Camila. What did I sign myself into?" "A cage with good lighting," Camila mutters, and despite everything, Bimbo lets out a real laugh, short and surprised. "That's exactly what it is." Camila squeezes her hand again, firmer this time. "Okay. New plan. Tonight you sleep because you look like you're about to fall over. Tomorrow, we read every single line of that contract with a lawyer who actually works for you and only you. Then we figure out how to protect your father's care without keeping you tied to a man who does this to you." "There's no clause for that." "Then we write one." Camila's eyes are steady and certain, the same look she's had since they were nineteen and Camila decided she'd fight anyone who came for Bimbo. "You're not doing this alone. Not the contract, not your dad, not any of it." Bimbo nods, her throat too tight to answer properly. She gathers the papers back into the folder, careful as she puts them away. Outside her window, the city keeps moving, lights and noise and a thousand lives that have nothing to do with hers. Somewhere across town, David is probably already asleep, his contract handled and his conscience clear enough to close his eyes. Bimbo doesn't sleep for a long time. She lies awake staring at the ceiling, running through every clause she can remember, looking for a crack, a loophole, anything. She doesn't find one that night. She doesn't know yet that the crack she needs isn't in the contract at all. It's somewhere much closer to home.