Supplemental

Mara stood in the fluorescent-lit breakroom of Vitality Corp, staring at the orange safety cones blocking the parking lot renovation. In her hand: a bottle of premium Vitamin D3 supplements, retail value $49.99, marked 'employee sample.' Her mother needed these. The doctors said her bones were becoming brittle, porous like old coral.

"You're not actually taking those home, are you?"

She turned. It was Fox—Julian Fox, the VP who'd mentored her three years ago when she was still naïve enough to believe in the mission statement. His hair was thinner now, and something about his eyes had grown flat, like coins worn smooth by too many transactions.

"My mother—"

"Save it." He stepped closer, lowering his voice. "Internal audit is reviewing expense reports. They found the Vitamin shipments from Q3. The ones you signed for."

Her stomach dropped. The clinical trial supplements that never made it to trial. The ones her mother swore were helping, even though Mara knew they were probably sugar pills. The placebo effect working both ways.

"Julian, I can explain."

"There's nothing to explain." He glanced at the security camera in the corner, its red light blinking steadily. "But I might lose my job too. So here's what we're going to do."

He pulled a crumpled orange receipt from his pocket—the vitamin store receipt, timestamped from last night. "I bought these myself. From the GNC on 4th Street. You were never here."

She stared at him. "Why?"

"Because your mother called me last week." He met her eyes, and for the first time in years, she saw something real there. "She wanted to know if her daughter was still working with that nice man who helped her through the divorce. She worries about you, Mara."

The silence stretched between them, thick and unbearable.

"They're not sugar pills," he said quietly. "The trial wasn't cancelled. It was moved to Phase 2. Your mother's in the control group. She's getting the real thing."

She thought of her mother that morning, peeling an orange at the kitchen table, saying for the first time in months that she felt stronger. Thought of the fox she'd seen in their backyard at dawn, sleek and wild and utterly uninterested in human concerns.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"Don't." He walked out, the door swinging shut behind him.

Outside, through the window, she watched an orange sunset bleed across the sky. She slipped the vitamin bottle into her bag and clocked out.