Chapter 4

"$3,000?" I asked.

"Not enough?" He frowned. "Then name your price."

I looked at the girl.

She was leaning against him, her crying stopped. She was staring at me with a mix of anxiety and quiet anticipation.

"No way. I'm not deleting it."

Ethan’s face twisted in anger. "Norah, don't push your luck."

"I'm trying to resolve this nicely. Don't be a bitch."

"A bitch?" I repeated the word, turning back toward the door.

"Ethan!" the girl panicked. "You can't let her leave! What if she leaks the audio? My parents will find out! My dad will literally kill me! You said you would protect me!"

Ethan stood there, his expression flitting between rage and panic.

My hand was already on the doorknob.

"Wait," he called out.

I didn't turn around.

"Norah, please."

His voice suddenly cracked, turning soft and desperate.

"Please delete it. This is all my fault, not hers. She’s young, she didn't know any better. I was the one who couldn't control myself. Blame me, hate me, but leave her out of this."

I slowly turned around.

They were standing there, holding hands.

"She didn't know any better?"

"She seemed pretty mature just a minute ago. She knew you had a girlfriend and still claimed you guys were in 'true love.'"

He choked on his words.

The girl lowered her head, staying silent.

"She doesn't know better, but you do," I said, staring at him. "You knew better, and you still cheated?"

He looked down at the floor, unable to face me.

"Ethan," the girl whispered, tugging at his sleeve. "Make her delete it... please, what am I going to do?"

He looked up at me, his eyes suddenly turning cold and predatory.

"Norah," he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Delete the recording. If you don't, I'll have to take it from you."

I didn't move.

He took a step forward.

I reached into my pocket, keeping my hand firmly on my phone.

"Take it?" I laughed. "Go ahead. It won't do you any good."

He stopped.

"I just set up a scheduled blast on Snapchat."

"In exactly two hours, if I don't log in and cancel it, the recording will automatically be sent to everyone on my contact list."

His face drained of color.

So did hers.

He pointed a trembling finger at me. "Are you out of your mind?!"

I kept quiet.

He stood there, his lips trembling, unable to make a sound.

The girl gripped his arm so tightly her nails must have dug into his skin, but he didn't even flinch.

The living room fell into a heavy silence for a few seconds.

"$15,000," he said suddenly.

I looked at him.

"$15,000," he repeated, his voice rushed and desperate. "You delete the recording, and I will transfer you $15,000 right now."

I still didn't say anything.

"I don't have that much in cash, but I can pull it together." He was practically hyperventilating. "I have $12,000 in my savings. I'll borrow $3,000 from a friend and get it to you today. You delete the recording, and we call it even. Deal?"

The girl tugged at his sleeve, looking slightly disapproving of the amount, but she kept her mouth shut.

"Fifteen thousand. Transfer it now."

He gasped, then quickly pulled out his phone, his fingers flying across the screen.

I pulled out my phone and pulled up my Venmo code.

His hands were shaking so badly he had to scan it three times before it went through. When he went to type in the amount, his fingers kept slipping. Finally, he looked up at me.

"Sent," he said. "Check it."

I looked down at my phone. A notification popped up: *Ethan Brooks sent you $15,000.*

"Now," I said, "write me a statement."

"What kind of statement?"

"A written confession. State clearly that this $15,000 is a voluntary separation settlement. Write down our relationship timeline, and admit to your infidelity. Sign it, and seal it with your thumbprint."