Page 209 of The Way I Hate Him
“How. Much?” I ask through a clenched jaw.
“Three quarters of a million.”
Jesus fuck.
I tear away from her and push my hand through my hair. Sure, do I have the money? Of course. That’s a drop in the bucket from what I have at this point, but the fact that I’m going to have to just hand this over because of my careless actions, because I thought drowning my sorrow and pain in a bottle and between random legs was the way to go, makes me feel physically ill.
“How do I know it won’t be put out there?” I ask.
“Because I have the only file of it, and I’ll hand it over to you.”
“How can I trust you?” I ask. “How could I possibly believe that this won’t get out to anyone else? And how do you even have a copy?”
“Because only one was taken, and it’s from a trusted source.”
“How fucking trusted? And how did you fucking get it?”
“They came to us, knowing we could reason with you.”
“They came to you?” I ask. “How would they even gain access to my dressing room? The only people who were allowed back there were Ruben and my—”
And that’s when it hits me.
Matt.
No fucking way.
I know it couldn’t be Ruben. He’d never betray me like that because he’s practically a brother. But Matt took everything he could get—shirts, albums, signed paraphernalia, empty bottles. There’s no doubt in my mind that he’d take a video of me to use it against me.
But why now?
Why not when I fired him?
Why did he wait this long? Probably to try to keep his name out of it, but he must be hurting if he’s using it now.And how the hell did he find my mother?
Trying to keep my expression neutral—because this is a huge invasion of privacy and a legal battle waiting to happen—I take a deep breath and say, “Why not a million?”
My mom’s eyes light up. “You’d be willing to pay that much?”
“I would, to guarantee there’s no slip of this anywhere, and there’d have to be a confidentiality agreement signed as well as an NDA, but yes, I’d pay one million to make sure this never sees the light of day.”
“Well.” She stands taller, pure pride surging through her, probably assuming that she has me in a chokehold when, in reality, I’m about to make her, Ray, and Matt’s lives a living hell. “I think I could go back to my source and make sure we guarantee this never reaches anyone else.”
“Good,” I say. “Do it. Let me draw up the contract with my lawyer, and I’ll get back to you.”
“How long will that take?” she asks, looking impatient.
“Given this is time sensitive, not long.”
“Good to hear,” she says. And there it is again—that smile.How do I share DNA with this woman? I’m no angel. I’ve never pretended to be either. But this? Blackmailing her own son for her own gain?She’s despicable.
What person, let alone a mother, takes joy from causing her child harm? How could she honestly live with herself if I wasn’t willing to pay her off? To know what the tabloids would say—how they’d smear her own son’s name—for money?
I fucking hate her. Gran’s right. I donotneed her approval. She’s not worth shit.
“Well, Ray is waiting for me. We’re headed up the coast but made a pit stop here. You have my number, right?”
Unfortunately.
