Chapter 3

"What’s it like to have your best friend turn into a loan shark and threaten you?"

Chloe’s long-form post went up on Snapchat and Instagram at exactly 8:00 AM the next morning. The title was a knife to my throat.

I saw it while sitting at my desk at work. My coworker, Lily, shoved her phone in front of my face.

"Harper, tell me this isn't about you."

It was over a thousand words. It was written with such raw emotion and dramatic pacing; it was ten times better than her college graduation thesis.

The gist of it was—

Every time she got beaten by her ex and knocked on my door covered in bruises, I would force her to sign a promissory note before even letting her in.

Later, she found out I was charging her high-interest rates. $7,000 became $9,000. $11,000 became $15,000.

Yesterday, I allegedly cornered her at her house, demanding she pay back a total of $60,000 immediately.

"Sixty thousand. I only borrowed twenty-some thousand, and she used loan-shark interest to inflate it to sixty."

"While I was being abused by a man, my best friend was holding papers to my throat."

"That’s my best friend."

She attached nine photos. Three of them were cropped screenshots of me asking her to pay me back.

All the context was gone—all her messages begging for money, her voice notes, her crying about how she couldn't survive—not a single one of those was left.

Only my messages remained: "Chloe, we need to talk about the money." "If you can, send me a partial payment by the end of the month." "I have the notes safe with me, don’t worry."

Out of context, every single message made me look like a ruthless debt collector.

The comments section exploded with over two hundred replies in half an hour.

"Oh my god, Chloe, you poor thing!"

"Cut this toxic trash out of your life!"

"Harper? I know her. She seemed so normal. I can’t believe she’s this sick..."

Lily gasped beside me.

"Harper, did you really charge her interest?"

I didn’t answer. I opened Snapchat. I had over thirty unread messages.

Sienna: "Harper, you’ve gone too far."

Phoebe: "Chloe is going through hell and you’re pushing her to the edge?"

Our college group chat was blowing up, tagging me: "Harper, care to explain?"

Then came a text from my mom.

"Harper, is what Chloe saying true? Are you lending money like a criminal? You can’t do things like that, sweetie!"

My mother’s message made my fingers freeze.

Chloe didn’t even spare my mother.

My phone wouldn't stop buzzing. I went to Chloe’s chat. She had sent a voice note.

I tapped it. It was only three words, quiet but dripping with smugness.

"Ready to behave?"

I slammed my phone face down on the desk and closed my eyes.

My mind was filled with thoughts of that $5,000.

Last November, Chloe said Wyatt was threatening her and she needed $20,000 right away. I only had $15,000 in my account. I sat on my bed for half an hour, doing the math over and over.

Finally, I called my mom.

"Mom, can I borrow five thousand dollars?"

"Oh? What about your own savings?"

"A friend needs it for an emergency."

The other end went quiet for a long time. Finally, my mom said, "Your dad put some money into a six-year CD. We were saving it for his medical bills later on."

"But Chloe is a sweet girl, and she’s in trouble. Take it. I’ll talk to your dad."

The bank teller had asked my dad, "Are you sure? If you withdraw this early, the interest rate drops to a standard checking rate. You’ll lose about three hundred dollars in interest."

My dad said he was sure.

His hand shook when he signed the paperwork. His reading glasses slid down his nose, and he had to push them back up three times.

The night that $5,000 hit my account, I rounded up the $20,000 and transferred it all to Chloe.

She had told me: "Harper, you are the only person in this world who truly cares about me."

And now, she was calling me a loan shark on social media.

Lily silently set a mug of hot tea next to my hand.

"Harper, why aren't you saying anything? Just clear the air. Post the promissory notes."

I shook my head.

She ate two of them. I only had two left. If I posted them, she would just say: "See? She only has notes for a fraction of the amount, the rest is made up."

It would only make me look more guilty.

My phone buzzed again. Chloe had posted another update.

"Thank you all for the love. I'm so scared right now. She’s threatening to take me to court... I’m just an abuse survivor. What am I supposed to do..."

Someone commented: "Don't worry, Chloe! We’ll help you find a lawyer!"

I closed the app.

The phone rang again. It was Mom.

"Harper, Chloe called me crying hysterically. She said you're trying to put her in jail with those notes... How could you do that? The poor girl gets beaten by her boyfriend, she’s already suffered so much..."

I gripped the phone, my throat tight.

"Mom. Out of the thirty-eight thousand dollars I lent her, five thousand was Dad’s medical money. She hasn't paid back a single cent."

The line went completely silent.

So quiet that I thought the call had dropped.

Then, a very soft sigh came through the speaker.

"...Harper, why didn't you tell me sooner?"

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