Chapter 4

Before I could react, someone suddenly snatched the phone out of my hand.

Harvey's lawyer was standing behind me, and he had filmed the entire scene.

He took a picture of the photos on my phone and said calmly, "Miss Maynard, unauthorized photography is a criminal offense, detainable under the law."

He added, "As for attempted extortion, that carries a sentence of up to three years. If the case is deemed severe, it could mean anywhere from three to ten years."

He held up his phone and added, "Solid evidence—witness and digital."

"Now, Miss Maynard, shall I call the police, or would you prefer to come with me voluntarily?"

For a moment, I was too stunned to respond.

Harvey looked at me with amused disdain. "What's wrong? Not going to deny it?"

He wasn't bluffing. He actually intended to press charges.

If I really ended up at the police station, even if I wasn't sentenced for years, I'd still be held for at least a few days.

And with my dad's condition so unstable, I couldn't afford to disappear for even one.

My resolve faltered immediately, and I stammered, "I... I was just bluffing."

The smile dropped from Harvey's face, his eyes burning into me.

"Sariah, adults pay for every word they say," he said.

And I knew exactly what he meant.

I had once told him I'd stay by his side, told him I loved him.

Then I'd said sorry and thank you.

Harvey left with Irene, and his lawyer stopped me before I could walk away.

He called the police, and before long, I was taken into custody.

Harvey had filed two charges against me: one for illegal recording, the other for attempted extortion.

The extortion charge would require investigation and a court hearing.

But for the unauthorized recording, the station gave me five days of administrative detention.

By that evening, sitting in a detention cell, I finally started to panic.

My dad was home alone, and he had no way of reaching me.

If he had a health episode, no one would be there for him.

I could only plead through tears, "Sir, please... can you help me contact Harvey? I can explain. My dad's alone, and he's very sick. I'm afraid something might happen."

The officer listened to me beg for what felt like forever.

Eventually, he stepped out and made a call to Harvey.

Two hours later, Harvey finally strolled in, taking his sweet time.

He reeked of cologne.

There was a faint red smudge on his shirt collar. I couldn't tell if it was lipstick or something else.

I only glanced at it before quickly turning my face away in humiliation.

I clenched my hands and forced myself to speak. "I was wrong. I'm sorry."

Harvey sat down across from me, his gaze landing on my wrist.

I was wearing a bracelet that barely concealed an old scar.

I got it when I had hit rock bottom with depression.

I instinctively lowered my arm and said quickly, "If you let me go home, I'll do whatever you want."

Harvey looked at me, expression unreadable. "Go home? Where exactly?"

I wasn't sure what he meant, but I still tried to explain.

"I'm living with my dad now. We rent a small place together. He's not doing well these past few years—healthwise."

Harvey's tone turned cutting. "Still can't afford a house, even after marrying Lance?"

I stayed silent.

His eyes locked onto mine.

He said, "Sariah, if you enjoy being here so much, then by all means—keep talking nonsense."

I had thought about explaining everything to him.

But what was the point, now that he was engaged and moving on?

Rehashing the past would only reopen wounds—for both of us.

And honestly, I was tired of lying—tired of telling the same story over and over again.

After a long silence, it was Harvey who finally stood up and said, "Let's go. My stomach hurts—cook me dinner, and I'll drop the whole thing."

Of course I agreed and followed him out immediately.

He told the officers it had all been a misunderstanding and said he wouldn't pursue charges anymore. Then he walked me out.

My phone was still at the station, but Harvey retrieved it and held onto it.

Even when we got back to his place, he didn't give it back.

I figured he didn't know the password and wouldn't see anything important, so I let it be.

He slouched on the couch, tossed my phone onto the coffee table without a glance, and leaned back like a king.

"Go cook," he ordered.