Chapter Five

I sigh and rub my temples as I step into the luxury department store. After the morning I’ve had—being bent over a kitchen counter by my boss and then basically being proposed to for a business arrangement—I deserve a new pair of shoes.

My Zara shoes were officially retired after the yogurt incident.

I pick out a pair of sleek, black stilettos with red bottoms and hand my card to the cashier with a small, tired smile.

“Declined,” the woman says after swiping it.

I blink. “I’m sorry? Try again, please.”

Even if I didn’t have money on the card—which I most definitely did—Scott was supposed to send me money for playing girlfriend this morning.

She swipes it again. “Declined, ma'am.”

I pull out my spare credit card that I only use for emergencies. Of all days that my credit card company decided to screw me over, it was this one. 

Fuck. 

“Try this one.”

“Also declined.”

My heart does a weird little skip.

That wasn’t possible.

I pull out my phone, my fingers trembling slightly as I logg into my banking app. I expect to see the generous deposit Jin-hoon had made this morning. Instead, my blood turns to ice.

The balance is a negative number. A very large, very scary negative number.

I stare at the screen, my vision blurring. There is a credit from Scott's company, but immediately following it is a massive debit. And then another. And another.

“Is there a problem?” the cashier asks, her tone shifting from polite to suspicious.

“I... I have to go,” I whisper. I hurry out of the store, my breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

I stand by the roadside under the bus shed—I hate driving and don’t know how, so I never bothered buying a car.

I call the bank’s 24-hour customer service line immediately.

“Hello!” I say to the person on the line after the bank routes me through several automated voices. “I'm calling to dispute some debits on my account. I never made those transactions.”

“Can we have your bank information?” a soft feminine voice asks.

I relay it to her.

“Yes. You made those transactions.”

“No, no I didn’t… I…”

“I’m sorry, Ms. Claire,” the representative says after ten minutes of me frantically explaining that I hadn't spent a dime. “But these transactions were authorized through your personal laptop. The security keys were all correct.”

“But I didn't do it! It’s fraud! thousands of dollars are gone, and I’m in debt!”

“The funds were moved into various charity accounts and real estate management firms,” the woman continues, sounding almost impressed. “For the real estate… it looks like a very strategic, long-term investment. Proving it is fraudulent will be nearly impossible since it was done from your home IP address.”

“I was at my boss’s house all morning!” I shout into the phone.

“You can come in on Monday to file a formal dispute, but I should warn you, these types of cases rarely go in the favor of the account holder when the passwords haven't been changed and it was done from your registered device.”

I hang up, feeling sick.

I rush home, my mind racing. Luckily, I had pre-purchased bus tickets.

The moment I step into my apartment, I know someone has been here from the way it smells. 

Like a man’s cologne.

I walk into the kitchen and stop dead.

On the fridge, stuck on with a magnet, is a small yellow post-it note.

:)

You’re lucky you weren’t home. You would have paid in more ways.

— CT

I sink to the floor, my legs giving out.

Owen.

I hadn't changed my passwords since Owen lived with me. I had been so relieved to get him out of my life and in jail that I’d forgotten how much of my digital life he had access to, and that one day, he was going to be released.

Monday morning feels like a funeral and with my mood, I am extremely happy Scott has gone to Newark and didn’t need me there with him.

I spent my lunch break at the bank, showing them the note and the footage from my doorbell camera. It showed a man in a black hoodie and a mask entering my apartment with a key.

“It could be anyone,” the bank manager says, handing the phone back to me. "And since he had a key and your passwords, the bank views this as a domestic dispute, not bank-level fraud. We cannot reverse the transactions."

“I’m going to lose my house,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. “The loan... my apartment was the collateral.”

“I’m sorry, Ms. Claire. You have thirty days to clear the negative balance before we start the foreclosure process.”

I walk out of the bank and stand on the sidewalk. I am so close to just lying in the middle of the road and letting myself get run over by a truck.

I officially have nothing. My savings, my credit, my home—all gone because I had tried to be "understanding" to a man who was a monster and had come back to take revenge.

Where the hell am I supposed to start from after all of this?

My life is over and even after receiving my salary this month, it was not even going to lift anything off the debt.

This man had literally drained my savings.

I pull out my phone and look at the time. Scott was still going to be in Newark for a meeting.

He wouldn't be back until late.

Five million dollars.

It wouldn’t hurt to try, right?

“You never call me,” Scott's voice comes through the line, sounding smooth and irritatingly calm.

“I want your offer,” I say, my voice shaking. I grip my phone so hard my knuckles turn white.

There is a long pause on the other end. I can almost hear the smirk forming on his face.

“The marriage?” he asks.

“Yes,” I close my eyes. “The marriage.”

“I’ll prepare a contract when I am back then. Is that the only reason you called?”

“Yeah… um, will I get paid immediately for it?” I really need to clear my debt as soon as possible and also maybe hire a lawyer who would know how to help me get my money back.

Getting married to my boss couldn’t be that bad, could it?

“What happened, Minnie Mo

use?” he asks in a dangerously low voice. “Are you in trouble?”