Page 21 of Of Vows and Betrayal

“We’re going now,” she tells him.

He takes in her clothes and purses his lips, visibly annoyed at the way she’s dressed. “Where are you going?”

“Oh, you know, the usual.” She shrugs. “I’ll go get a manicure, coffee, lunch, maybe the hairdresser, shoe shopping… all nice.”

He smiles and nods. “Good, good.” He reaches into his pocket, takes out a thick stack of bills and gives it to her. “Have fun.” He looks at me. “Keep her safe.”

“Just like you would,” I reply, and I can’t help but be a little disappointed by her taking the money. I guess this is enough for her to stop being sad. I’d assumed she was shallow, being a Bergotti and all, but I never expected it to run that deep.

We head out of the office, and I follow her to the car. The ride is mostly silent, the tension between us palpable. She stares out of the window, lost in thought, and I wonder what’s going through her mind.

“Where to?” I finally ask as we reach the interstate. “Burberry Mall?”

She turns toward me, scrunching her nose. “Why would I go there?”

“Manicure, pedicure…” I trail off.

“Oh no, lord, no. I never intended to do that.” She looks at her watch again. “Take me to Pathway Home.”

“Pathway Home?”

“The homeless shelter on 110th.”

I navigate the streets with ease, heading toward Pathway Home. As we approach, I notice the change in scenery from luxury to poverty. The shelter is a simple building, bustling with activity. Ophelia directs me to park nearby.

As soon as we get out, Ophelia heads straight to the entrance, where a middle-aged man is organizing volunteers.She hands him the thick stack of bills her father gave her.

“Mr. Thompson, please use this for food and supplies,” she says, her voice filled with genuine concern.

The man looks at the money, his eyes widening. “Ophelia, this is… thank you. This will help so much.”

She smiles warmly. “It’s the least I can do.”

I watch, awestruck, as she moves through the shelter, greeting people by name, asking about their families, and offering words of encouragement. She’s not just throwing money at a problem; she’s actively involved and genuinely caring.

One of the shelter’s residents, a frail-looking woman, approaches Ophelia with tears in her eyes. “Merci, Phee. You always come through for us.”

Ophelia hugs her gently. “De rien, Fatou. How’s your daughter doing?”

“She’s better, thanks to the medicine you got us,” Fatou replies, her voice trembling with gratitude.

I follow her, feeling my hardened exterior begin to crack. She’s nothing like I expected. Her kindness, her selflessness, it’s all real. It makes my mission feel… tainted.

She catches me watching her and walks over. “I won’t be long.”

“It’s okay, take your time.” I look around at all the people smiling at her.

“Why are you doing that?”

She lets out a startled laugh. “How could I not?”

I tilt my head, genuinely curious. “Most people in your position wouldn’t even think to help.”

She sighs, her gaze distant. “I guess I’m not like mostpeople in my position. These people… they need someone to care about them. To see them.”

I watch her, seeing the sincerity in her eyes. “It’s rare. It’s admirable.”

She shrugs, a hint of sadness in her smile. “It’s what my mother would have done. We didn’t have much, but whatever she could spare, she would share.”

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