Wyatt’s mother leaned back in her chair, an amused smirk playing on her lips. “Oh, darling,” she said smoothly, “don’t be so dramatic. This isn’t about selling your soul. It’s about being practical.”
I gritted my teeth. “Practical? You want me to take hush money?”
She sighed, swirling the wine in her crystal glass. “Call it what you want. But I think you’d be wise to accept.”
I stared at the check she had slid across the table. **Two hundred thousand dollars.** Enough to wipe away my legal bills, enough to rebuild my life. But it came with a cost—my silence. She wanted me to walk away without a fight, to let Wyatt off the hook, to let their wealthy, picture-perfect family remain untarnished.
I clenched my fists. “I don’t need your money.”
Wyatt’s mother tilted her head. “Don’t be foolish, dear. You’re drowning. This could be your fresh start.”
A fresh start. That’s exactly what I needed. But not like this. Not on their terms.
I took a deep breath and pushed the check back toward her. “I’d rather struggle than let you or Wyatt win.”
Her expression darkened. “Are you sure?”
I stood, my heart racing. “Absolutely.”
As I walked away, I heard her chuckle. “You’re more stubborn than I thought.”
Maybe. But I was done letting people like them dictate my worth. I didn’t need their money—I had something more valuable. My dignity.