Chapter 3 - THE BOYFRIEND WHO SOLD MY NAME
David was waiting outside my apartment when I got home.
He stood beneath the broken hallway light, wearing the expensive leather jacket I'd bought him for his birthday.
"Finally."
I stopped near the stairs.
"What are you doing here?"
"I've been calling you."
"I was working."
He held out his hand.
"Did you bring the money?"
I stared at him.
"David, I told you I don't have eight hundred dollars."
His expression darkened.
"You work at the Onyx Club. Those people throw money around."
"That doesn't make it mine."
He stepped closer.
"Don't get smart with me."
I felt the familiar knot tighten in my stomach.
For eleven months, I'd convinced myself that David was simply going through a difficult period.
He'd lost his job.
His car had been repossessed.
His friends had stopped lending him money.
Somehow, every problem had become my responsibility.
"I'm done paying your debts," I said.
He laughed.
"You think you can just decide that?"
"Yes."
His smile vanished.
Before he could respond, a black SUV pulled up outside.
Vincent stepped out.
David immediately backed away.
I stared at him.
"Did you follow me?"
Vincent kept his hands visible.
"Mr. Gallagher asked me to make sure you got home safely."
"I didn't ask for that."
"I know. I won't stay if you don't want me here."
David suddenly smiled.
"Hey, man. Roman sent you?"
Vincent's expression sharpened.
"You know Mr. Gallagher?"
David hesitated.
"Everybody knows Roman."
"That's not what I asked."
I looked between them.
Something was wrong.
David's phone rang.
He glanced at the screen and quickly rejected the call.
But I'd already seen the caller's name.
ARTHUR W.
My stomach twisted.
"Why is Arthur Whitlock calling you?"
David went pale.
"It's business."
"What business?"
"Claire, don't start."
Vincent stepped forward.
"Answer her."
David looked trapped.
Then he snapped.
"Fine! I told Whitlock where you worked. He paid me for information."
The words hit harder than a slap.
"What information?"
"Your schedule. Your address. That stupid necklace you always wear."
I instinctively covered the pendant.
Vincent's expression turned dangerous.
"How much?"
David swallowed.
"Five thousand."
I stared at the man I'd been supporting for almost a year.
"You sold information about me?"
He tried to grab my hand.
"Baby, I needed the money."
I stepped away.
"Don't call me that."
David's face twisted.
"You're making a mistake."
"No. I made my mistake eleven months ago."
I walked past him and unlocked my apartment.
Vincent remained in the hallway while David hurried down the stairs.
Inside, I locked the door.
My hands wouldn't stop shaking.
Then my phone buzzed.
An unknown number.
A photograph appeared.
It showed my mother lying in a hospital bed.
The date on the image was three days after her supposed death.
May you like
Beneath it was a message.
Your mother didn't die in that accident.
