Chapter 3

3

She whipped her head up, staring at me in shock.

"Ethan..."

"Don't say my name."

I cut her off, pulling my phone from my pocket and tapping the screen.

"Everything you guys just said? I recorded all of it."

She froze.

The boy froze, too.

"Including your little speech," I said, looking directly at the kid. "You love her, she knew she had a boyfriend and still slept with you. I have it all on tape."

The color drained from his face instantly.

"You recorded us?" He took a step forward. "When did you start recording?"

I didn't answer. I just slipped the phone back into my pocket and turned toward the door.

"Wait!" the boy screamed behind me. "Delete that recording right now!"

I didn't stop. I kept walking.

"Chloe!" he shrieked, his voice cracking. "Tell him to delete it! He can't leave with that! What if he sends it to people? What is he going to do with it?!"

I heard a frantic scramble behind me as footsteps rushed toward my back.

Before I could reach the doorknob, the kid caught up and grabbed my arm. His hands were ice-cold, his fingernails digging deep into my skin.

"Give me the phone!" he yelled.

I yanked my arm back, breaking his grip, and stepped away.

But he lunged at me again, clawing at my pocket to snatch the phone. I held it high above my head. He couldn't reach it, so he started jumping, his nails scraping hard against the back of my hand. A stinging, burning pain flared up.

"Chloe!" he screamed again. "Are you just going to stand there like a corpse?!"

I lost my patience and gave him a hard shove.

He stumbled backward, losing his footing on the slick hardwood floor, and landed flat on his butt.

He let out a sharp cry, sitting on the floor and looking up at me with wide, red, tear-filled eyes, looking incredibly wronged.

Chloe rushed over, dropping to her knees to help him up.

"Are you okay?" She grabbed his shoulders, scanning him up and down. "Did you hurt yourself?"

He leaned into her arms, shaking his head whimpering.

I stood there, watching the pathetic display.

She suddenly snapped her head up, glaring at me.

"Ethan!" she snapped, her voice dropping into a harsh register. "Why did you have to push him?!"

I said nothing.

She helped the boy stand up.

He leaned heavily against her, tears streaming down his face as he muttered, "I'm okay, I'm okay, it's my fault..." The more he played the victim, the tighter she held him.

"Delete the recording," she said to me, her tone hardening. "I know I messed up, but you had no right to lay hands on him."

I looked at her, suddenly wanting to laugh.

But the laughter wouldn't come.

"Delete it?" I asked.

"Yes," she said. She paused, then added, "I’ll pay you. Just delete the recording."

"How much?"

She blinked, clearly not expecting me to agree so easily. She hesitated for a moment before saying, "Two thousand dollars."

I just stared at her.

Eight years.

The most expensive gift she had ever bought me was that twelve-hundred-dollar watch.

And back then, she had said: *"When we have more money, I'll buy you better things. For now, let's save every penny we can for our wedding."*

Our wedding.

The word sounded like a sick joke now.

And now, just to protect this kid from a recording, she was offering me two thousand dollars without blinking.

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