Her aunt’s expression turned shrewd. “What’s the matter? Did you have a fight with Luis?”

“And if we did, so what? He’s my husband. I decided to marry him, and that’s enough talk about this. I have to get the flat ready for the party.”

“Okay, do whatever you please.” Her aunt settled into the sofa and blanked into her visual.

At least Nithya would have silence from that corner. She made sure Sita had the contact information for all the party guests’ agents, then opened a tall storage cabinet. Where were last year’s static decorations? Nowhere in reach. Rather than wasting energy making a step stool, she dragged over a dining chair and stood on it. Every coin counted now. She pulled out a dusty box with neatly packed party items. As she stuck a birthday banner to the wall, she studiously ignored the newly arrived file glowing in the lower corner of her visual. Tonight, after the party, I’ll look it over.

By the time Nithya placed the last item of garbage into the bin, the other two members of the household had fallen asleep. Bhairavi Chitthi snored. Carma cuddled a new furpet bot from a wealthy school chum. Thank God they’d paid her school fees through the year end; otherwise Carma’s access to the top-tier educational program would end.

The birthday party had been a success. Other than Carma’s occasional pouts at her father’s absence, the festivities provided Nithya with a good distraction from her other problems. The cake tasted as delicious as it looked, and the children—in person and virtual—had enjoyed the games Nithya had chosen.

She washed her hands, took a mug of tea from the kitchen dispenser, and sat at the table. She propped her feet up on the opposite chair and flexed them. Hosting parties took more energy than they had in her younger days. She blew on the hot, milky liquid, sipped, then placed a flow under her tongue.

“Sita, send the anonymous file qxu34ty38208zz to the printer.”

“At the minimum readable text size, this document collection will require eighty-two percent of the raw pulp in the printer. Do you still wish to print it?”

“Yes.”

Opening the file in her visual meant that a hacker could more easily gain access. Of course, any determined person would be able to crack her passwords and the file’s encryption, but there was no sense making their task simpler. Nithya pulled the warm sheaf from the dispenser.

She read: