Someone even made a crude joke. “Or you could come to me. I’ll give you ten thousand. Think about it.”
Elliott raised an eyebrow, but he didn’t say a word. Instead, it was Tiffany who gasped in mock horror. “Don’t be so crude. She’s just asking for money, not selling herself. You’ll scare the poor girl.” She turned to me with that same triumphant smirk.
I felt like a clown in the center of their derision, every mocking word slicing through me. Elliott remained a silent observer, watching it all unfold as though it were a play staged for his amusement.
The pain was suffocating, but I had no room for despair. My mother needed this money for surgery. Gritting my teeth, I turned back to him and pleaded, “Elliott, my mother is sick. I really need this money. Please, can you help me?”
The words had barely left my mouth when Tiffany chuckled again.
“Candice, at least come up with a better lie. Don’t you know we’ve heard these clichés a million times online?”
“No, it’s not like that,” I tried to explain, my voice trembling. “My mom had a sudden heart attack. She needs an urgent bypass surgery—”
Before I could finish, Elliott stood abruptly and strode toward me. He grabbed my chin with one hand, forcing me to look up at him. His eyes were as dark and fathomless as the ocean at midnight.
“Candice, do you think I don’t know the truth? Your mother’s medical report from earlier this year is still sitting in my office. She’s perfectly fine.” His voice was cold. “A heart attack? How far are you willing to go with your lies? I love you so much, and this is how you see me? Just a fool for you to milk dry?”
I tried to pry his fingers off, but his grip was unyielding. I had never seen this side of him before—so terrifying, so cold.
“No… it’s not like that! I didn’t lie to you!” I cried, my voice breaking.
“Candice, you’ve truly disappointed me,” he said flatly. Then, without warning, he yanked me by the collar and flung me toward the table.
My forehead struck the edge with precision, and a sharp pain shot through me. Warm blood trickled down my temple, staining my vision red.
Tiffany gasped theatrically. “Elliott, take it easy! She’s still a girl, after all.”
Elliott ignored her entirely. His cold and calculating gaze never left me. “I’ll give you the seventy thousand,” he said at last.
For a moment, hope flickered in my eyes.
Then he spoke again, “Drink every bottle of whiskey on this table, and the money is yours.”
I froze, staring at him in disbelief.
He knew I couldn’t drink.
