Chapter 4

I stared at the necklace, ice-cold.

I'd never touched it. How the hell was it in my hair?

Then it hit me.

That morning, cleaning a twelfth-floor restroom, I'd snagged my hair on a nail in the doorframe.

I couldn't scrub with my hair hanging loose.

Martha had walked by, so I'd asked her to put it back up.

'Was that when...?'

I snapped my head up and spotted her in the crowd.

"It was you! You planted it in my hair!"

Martha's face changed. She glanced at Callie, then away. "W-what are you talking about?"

She flushed but got louder. "I've worked here for years. When have I ever pulled something this shady?"

Callie frowned at me. "Lena, Martha's worked hard here for years without a problem.

"You got caught, and now you're throwing her under the bus?"

My chest heaved with anger. "Call the cops.

"Right now!

"They can check for fingerprints. Check the cameras. Once they get here—"

"Enough!" Alvin snapped.

Everyone went quiet.

He stared at me, cold and disgusted. "We have a witness and the necklace. Still making excuses?

"A gold digger ex is embarrassing enough.

"A thief too? I'd be a joke."

He didn't bother lowering his voice.

Everyone heard.

After a beat, whispers rippled through the crowd.

"Holy shit. She's Mr. Danford's ex?"

"No wonder she swiped an $800,000 necklace. Guess she's used to the good stuff."

I froze. I hadn't expected Alvin to tell everyone about us.

Once it sank in, they looked at me differently.

The men openly checked me out.

The women glared.

They probably thought a toilet cleaner had no business dating Alvin Danford.

Of course. He'd cooked up that whole broke-boy act.

One casual comment, and he'd put a target on my back.

He didn't care.

He glanced at the necklace. "Three months' pay docked for stealing valuable company property."

Then he walked away.

My heart sank.

Three months' pay. $7,200.

Now paying off that $16,000 was even further out of reach.

I tried to get up and follow him, beg him to reconsider.

Then I looked down at my nearly naked body and curled back up in shame.

Work got worse.

The women kept finding ways to mess with me.

I'd step into a stall, and dirty water would come pouring over the top.

I'd finish mopping, and someone would track mud across the floor.

I could take that.

The men scared me.

Every time I bent to mop, their hungry eyes followed.

Someone leaked my number too. Late at night, the texts poured in.

[Hey, gorgeous. I'm no Mr. Danford, but I've got cash. Give me a shot.]

[You're a gold digger. Quit acting like you're too good for us.]

When I couldn't take it anymore, I filed a sexual harassment complaint.

It landed back in my hands hours later.

Alvin had added one line in red.

[Just say they're not paying enough.]