Kayla let out a sharp gasp.

“Scott, tell them they can’t do this!” she cried, grabbing his arm.

Scott pushed her hand away.

“Get off me,” he muttered.

“Excuse me?” Kayla said, her face turning red.

“I said get off me!” Scott yelled. “This is your fault! You and your stupid texts!”

“My fault?” Kayla screamed. “You’re the one who told me you were rich! You’re the one who promised me we’d have a mansion!”

“Enough,” Sterling said, slamming his hand on the table.

The room went quiet again, save for Kayla’s heavy breathing.

Jerome smiled a very small, dangerous smile.

“We have a proposal,” Jerome said.

Sterling leaned back in his chair, his face grim.

“What proposal?” Sterling asked.

“My client is willing to negotiate,” Jerome said. “But the terms will be ours.”

I looked at Scott.

The man who had spent months treating me like an inconvenience, who had sneered at me in our own kitchen, now looked small.

He looked like a child caught stealing.

He looked at his lawyer, desperation written across his face.

“What do they want, Richard?” Scott whispered.