Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHLOE
M y mind is spinning as I sit on the couch in my apartment, staring into space and trying to process everything that’s happened.
It’s not going well.
My eyes are swollen from crying, and I feel numb.
It was a herculean feat to get through three life-coaching sessions before I could come home. Thankfully, I’m an expert at compartmentalizing when I need to.
Now, I need to figure out how to handle losing my clients' trust. Sitting there with my clients today, I felt like a liar, withholding the news that their secrets might be revealed to the world. But Ted insisted I let him craft a formal notification.
Stupid, stupid, stupid… Why didn’t I have better virus protection?
I scold myself but realize that it won't help the situation. Taking a deep breath, I try to focus my thoughts productively.
I need to figure out how to continue living my life—how to go to Ashley’s bonfire party tonight—and act somewhat normal despite receiving a ransom note for ten million dollars.
Liam assured me he’s handling things, but I can't shake off the feeling of guilt for not dealing with this myself. I don’t want to have to rely on Liam.
I don’t even fucking know what Liam is to me, or what he wants, or what I want.
My thoughts start making me dizzy again, so I decide to focus on one thing at a time. Go through the motions.
Standing up from the couch, I intend to change my outfit and put on some makeup. I shouldn’t miss this party. I need a distraction.
Plus, Ashley has wanted to meet up with friends for a bonfire for weeks, and we finally got it scheduled. I invited Liam as my date when we were blissfully happy on our weekend yacht cruise before everything hit the fan.
Just as I’m about to head to my bedroom, my phone chimes with a text message.
I pull it out, expecting something from Ashley, maybe Liam.
But my heart seizes when I see the text.
How’s dating a billionaire?
It’s Lucas.
His name on my screen makes my skin crawl.
I collapse back onto the couch, questions flooding my mind. Why does he care about Liam? And is he the fucking scumbag who stole my files?
It has to be him.
I know I should ignore him and move on with my evening, but I can’t. I want answers.
So, I decide to ask him the most basic question—I don’t want to accuse him of anything just yet.
Why are you texting me?
My heart drums in my ears as I watch the text bubbles moving as he types.
Let’s meet to talk and skip the legal bullshit.
He wants to talk. What’s his game? I know I shouldn’t talk with cybercriminals or crazy ex-boyfriends, but I want this to end. Desperately.
Maybe he does too.
Okay. When?
I release a tense breath, feeling mostly confident in my decision to accept his invitation to talk. I’m going to handle this shit myself.
I sit there in silence, thinking, hoping maybe this can all go away. He just wants his money, and I can give it to him. This can all go away.
Without warning, a loud knock startles me from my thoughts. My body jolts up and I can feel the blood draining from my face.
Is Lucas here? What the fuck?
There are no windows for me to peek through and see who's at the door. Frozen in place, my eyes fixate on the door, straining to hear any faint noise coming from outside.
I know someone is there, listening for me just like I am for them. My heart races, and it feels like I've been dropped into a horror movie. Is Lucas stalking me now, too?
“Let me in, Chloe,” a rough voice demands. It’s Lucas . He sounds impatient.
Surprisingly, I feel relieved that he’s the one behind the door. As he knocks again, I can sense the desperation. Maybe I can get the upper hand here. The text message prelude to his unannounced visit was creepy as fuck, but now he’s here and maybe we can fix this. This is my chance to take control of the situation.
With newfound confidence, I stride over to the door and pull it open. “Come in,” I say, managing to keep my tone casual.
Lucas gives me a sly grin and strolls across the threshold, an odor of alcohol hitting me as he enters.
I immediately regret my decision to let him in. A second ago was the moment when the audience was screaming not to open the door, and I foolishly did it anyway.
I take a deep breath and close the door, deciding to stand right there, close to the exit. I watch as Lucas scans the apartment, picking up a half-drunk bottle of water from the kitchen counter and taking a swig from it as if he owns the place and everything in it. He’s deliberately trying to provoke a reaction from me.
“Chloe, all I want is my money. I’ve been asking for it and asking for it. And I want it now,” he says matter-of-factly like he’s the victim here.
Don’t negotiate with him. I remember Liam’s warning earlier today.
But I desperately want this ordeal to be over.
“How much?” I glare at Lucas.
He grins, but it’s no longer charming like it used to be. Now, it’s monstrous.
“Five million,” he says flatly.
I can’t help but laugh. It’s absurd that my client list could be worth that much, and why five million? The ransom demand was for ten million.
“Why the discount?” I let out a snort of disbelief.
He squints his eyes at me and, for a second, it seems like he might not know what I’m talking about.
“Someone is holding my computer files hostage for ransom,” I explain bitterly, looking for any glimmer in his expression that will give him away, but he holds his poker face.
“That sounds serious.” He raises his eyebrows, surely feigning surprise. But he can’t contain the amusement dancing in his eyes, enjoying my predicament.
I want to wipe that smug smile off his face. He wants five million plus the ten million ransom demand now?
“But you’re dating a billionaire—you can swing it.” He shrugs. He leans up against the counter and casually opens a bag of chips that I had left out, taking one and chewing loudly as he watches me with an ice-cold stare. It’s hard to believe this is a man I used to love.
“Maybe you can work out overtime pay or something,” he suggests, still munching with his mouth full.
My jaw drops in shock. In private practice, there’s no overtime pay. He knows that Liam is paying me.
He seems to find my shocked expression amusing, and he smiles as he stuffs another chip into his mouth. After taking his time chewing, he speaks to me as if giving me an order.
“Chloe, you need to send me my money.”
This can’t be real.
“Or what?” I grit my teeth.
“Or things will get a lot harder for you.” He shrugs. He’ll release my files.
“You’re coercing me to pay fifteen million dollars,” I scoff in disbelief.
“Of course not,” he chuckles. “I’m asking for a settlement of just five million.” He says it like it’s totally reasonable, and I’m the crazy one. As if he has nothing to do with the ransomware attack.
“So, it’s just a coincidence that my files were stolen for ransom at the same time that you’ve been hounding me for money.” I stare him down, daring him to continue lying.
“Terrible luck you’re having.” He smirks, crunching down on another chip. He knows he has the upper hand.
I curse myself for not seeing this coming. This is exactly how he operates. He’s angling for money two ways. Diversifying , like he always used to talk about. Hell bent on getting money out of me one way or another.
Don’t negotiate with him. I hear Liam’s warning again as my mind searches for another solution.
Standing up straighter, I realize that I still have some leverage in this situation. “You’ve had some pretty bad luck yourself, Lucas,” I remind him.
A shadow crosses his face, and his smug smile vanishes.
“I’m sure your debt collectors would love to know where you are,” I threaten, knowing full well I’ve upped the stakes.
He’s screwed over a lot of people who trusted him, and eventually, the shitstorm he created will catch up with him. But maybe I can speed up the process with a helpful tip. Lucas knows they were reaching out to me constantly, questioning me for his whereabouts, and I could easily reach back out to them.
His eyes turn black with rage as he glares at me.
“You’d really sell me out?” he says in disbelief.
“What do you think you’re doing to me?” I retort, exasperated. He’s about to expose all my client information for fuck’s sake. I know it’s him.
Lucas glares at me with hatred.
“Give my files back by tomorrow and walk away,” I demand.
He clenches his jaw as he dusts the salt off his hands. The way he is looking at me is murderous. I’ve never seen him like this. He stands up straight and something flips. I’ve lost the advantage somehow and my heart begins to race with fear.
“Chloe, you ungrateful bitch,” he seethes as he slowly approaches me. Instinctively, I recoil, pressing my back up against the door.
Oh fuck. I never should have let him in. I slide closer to the doorknob, ready to escape.
“You’re not in control here,” he hisses. “Those contacts are on your phone, right? Let me see,” he demands, extending his hand as he moves closer.
“Stop. I’ll call the police,” I warn, fear making my voice quiver.
“Police?” He scoffs, irate now. He gets in my face, and the smell of alcohol on his breath overwhelms me.
He leans over me. “You’re fucking some billionaire, and you still won’t pay what you owe me?” He’s incredulous and only escalating.
Panic sets in as I press myself against the door, searching for a way out. My hand finally finds the doorknob, but as I try to throw it open Lucas slams his palm against the door, holding it closed.
“Stop!" I scream and duck under his arm to get away from him. I flee towards the living room, frantically pulling out my phone and dialing 911. I try to make it further, to the bathroom with a locked door.
But Lucas is faster than me, grabbing at the phone in my hand. I clutch onto it for dear life as I hear it ring, then connect.
“911, what’s your?—”
I start shouting my address, but Lucas rips the phone from my grip and shoves me—hard.
I stumble backward—the coffee table intercepts me, the edge hitting my face.
Pain blossoms.
And it’s all I feel.