8. The Final Invoice #2
But here, inside this sedan, I didn’t have to act. I didn’t have to force a polite smile or filter my words. I could just be tired.
Sebastian picked up a cardboard cup from a carrier sitting on the floorboard. He handed it across the center console. The rich, bitter aroma of dark-roast coffee filled the space between us.
“I got you decaf, since I assume sitting in that clinic with Naomi spiked your blood pressure yesterday,” Sebastian said.
I took the cup, wrapping my cold fingers around the hot cardboard. I stared at the plastic lid, thinking about the sterile triage room and the horrific charade of holding Naomi’s hand while she wept for the cameras.
“You have no idea how much I needed this,” I said, taking a sip of the hot coffee. “Thank you. The clinic shoot was torture.”
Sebastian twisted in the driver’s seat, reaching into the back of the sedan.
“Hold on, I want to show you something,” he said.
He retrieved a sleek laptop from a leather satchel and settled it directly on the center console. I shifted my weight in the passenger seat, my heavy coat bunching uncomfortably against my stomach as I leaned closer. I kept my grip tight on the cup, leaning closer to the screen.
Sebastian flipped the screen open. The sudden, bright glare cut through the dim interior of the car, illuminating the sharp angles of his jaw. He typed a password, bypassing a stark login portal.
“The receiver in the guest room is pushing the files directly to the cloud,” Sebastian explained, tapping the trackpad. “I want you to see it working.”
A dashboard loaded onto the screen. Three vertical green bars bounced and spiked in real time, monitoring an active audio feed, while a progress wheel spun next to a list of completed file transfers.
I stared at the digital readout. The sheer panic of living with Warren and Naomi had consumed me for days, turning my own house into a trap.
Seeing the actual data—locked and out of their control—finally broke the tension in the car.
They thought they were winning. They thought I was just a naive mark funding their vanity project. Instead, every lie they told was being cataloged right here on this screen.
I lifted the coffee cup and took a slow swallow. The strong coffee burned the back of my throat, but the heat settled the lingering tremor in my hands.
A light drizzle began to fall outside. I watched the water bead against the glass, letting the silence stretch between us. The initial relief of the server dashboard began to slip, overshadowed by the memory of the afternoon.
“I saw Agnes,” I said.
Sebastian stopped typing. He looked over at me, waiting.
“She’s thrilled about the shoot,” I continued, staring at the grey sky through the wet windshield. “I think she looks forward to seeing Naomi.”
I pressed my shoulders back against the upholstery.
Agnes had practically raised us. She was one of the only genuinely good people I had left, and tomorrow, Naomi was going to parade onto her playground and exploit that affection for the cameras.
Naomi didn’t care about the orphanage. She only cared about the lens.
“I know you’re not happy with that, but it’s not bad for us,” Sebastian said. “The more comfortable Naomi feels on camera, the sloppier she and Warren will get. Agnes will understand, once she knows the truth.”
“I realize that. It’s just infuriating. Naomi betrayed Agnes too.”
Sebastian reached for the steering column and twisted the key. The engine died, and the wipers halted mid-sweep across the glass. The sudden quiet of the dead motor filled the cabin.
“That’s enough for today,” Sebastian said.
He closed the laptop. The screen went black, plunging the interior of the sedan back into the dim, overcast afternoon. He shifted in his seat to face me.
“You’re holding up well, Juniper,” he continued, his voice low against the silence of the car. “Most people would have cracked under this kind of pressure by now.”
I met his calm blue gaze. Every relationship in my life had operated on a ledger. Naomi used my guilt and loyalty to insulate herself from consequences. Warren used my desperate desire for a family to buy his way into a fortune. They demanded pieces of me in exchange for their affection.
Sebastian was parked on a cold residential street just to ensure I had a safe place to breathe. He wanted nothing from me except my survival.
I thought about his unwavering protection, settling against the leather seat. It had nothing to do with fear. I could feel exactly how close his shoulder was to mine, and I broke eye contact, focusing on the cardboard cup in my hands.
“I don’t have the luxury of cracking,” I said, tipping the cup back to drain the last swallow of lukewarm coffee. “I need to win this.”
I leaned forward and dropped the empty cup back into the carrier. I gripped the lapels of my wool coat, crossing my arms tightly over my chest.
“And you will,” Sebastian said. “We have the orphanage shoot tomorrow. Go home and get some rest. Warren and Naomi underestimated you, and soon, they’ll pay the price for that.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I shoved the passenger door open. A rush of damp, freezing wind flooded the cabin, stripping away the lingering warmth of the heater. I forced myself out of the low seat and stepped onto the wet pavement.
I turned back and pushed the door shut, engaging the lock with a solid clunk.
Sebastian flashed his headlights once. The engine rumbled to life, and the sedan pulled away from the curb. I stood in the light drizzle, watching the taillights disappear down the street.