Chapter 7 - Seventy-Four Dollars
I knew Vanessa was outside before she knocked.
My apartment building had thin walls and a front door that slammed hard enough to shake the hallway pictures. I heard the downstairs buzzer, then my landlord’s voice, then heels on the stairs.
I had been home for twenty-three minutes.
Long enough to change into sweatpants.
Not long enough to decide whether I was hungry.
When the knock came, I looked through the peephole.
Red coat.
Perfect hair.
Vanessa.
I did not open the door.
“Olivia.”
I stayed quiet.
“I know you’re in there.”
That was not comforting.
I picked up my phone and texted Mrs. Carter.
Vanessa is outside my apartment.
Then I added:
I did not give her my address.
Mrs. Carter answered immediately.
Lock the door. I’m calling Daniel.
I almost laughed.
The door was already locked.
People who had grown up with doormen sometimes forgot the rest of us did that automatically.
Vanessa knocked again.
“I’m not here to hurt you.”
I stood in the kitchen with my phone in my hand.
“That’s not a sentence people usually need if the visit is good,” I called.
Silence.
Then, “I deserve that.”
I leaned against the counter.
My cheek throbbed.
“What do you want?”
“To talk.”
“We talked.”
“Not without Luca standing there.”
“He wasn’t standing there most of the time.”
“You know what I mean.”
I did.
And part of me understood why she had come.
She wanted one conversation where she did not feel judged by the man who had just ended their engagement.
I still did not open the door.
“Say it from there.”
Vanessa exhaled loudly.
“I brought something for you.”
“No.”
“You don’t even know what it is.”
“I know I don’t want it.”
“It’s money.”
I closed my eyes.
That was somehow worse than flowers.
“How much?”
“Ten thousand dollars.”
For one ugly second, my brain did the math.
Rent.
Credit card.
The dental bill I had been paying twenty-five dollars at a time.
My car’s transmission, which had been making a noise I was pretending not to hear.
Then I remembered her hand on my shoulder.
“What is it for?”
“Your medical expenses. Lost work. What happened.”
“Mr. Moretti is paying my medical bill and two days’ wages.”
“It’s not from him.”
“I know.”
“I’m trying to make this right.”
“No, you’re trying to make it finished.”
The hallway went quiet.
I had surprised both of us.
Vanessa said, “What’s the difference?”
I looked around my apartment.
One bedroom. Secondhand couch. A kitchen table I had bought from a church sale for thirty dollars.
The rent was too high and the radiator clanged at night.
But it was mine.
“The difference is whether I have to do something after I take it.”
“You don’t.”
“Sign something?”
“No.”
“Tell Luca something?”
“No.”
“Not talk to anyone?”
A pause.
There it was.
I stepped closer to the door.
“What do you want me not to say?”
Vanessa’s voice lowered.
“I don’t want this becoming a police matter.”
“I haven’t called the police.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you worried?”
“Because Luca will.”
I almost corrected her.
Then realized I did not know whether he would.
“I’m not responsible for what he does.”
“You’re the one with the bruise.”
The sentence made me feel like an object again.
I opened the door.
Not all the way.
The chain stayed on.
Vanessa stood there holding a white envelope.
Her eyes went immediately to my face.
For once she looked ashamed without making it elegant.
“Ten thousand,” she said.
“I heard you.”
“I won’t ask you to sign anything.”
“But you want me to tell Luca I don’t want police involved.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I grabbed your arm. You fell. I lied. I know how that looks.”
“It looks like what happened.”
Her jaw tightened.
“My father is going to hear about this.”
I stared at her.
That was it.
Not prison.
Not Luca.
Her father.
Vanessa saw me understand and looked away.
“He thinks I ruin good things when I’m afraid,” she said.
I almost laughed, but something in her face stopped me.
“That’s oddly specific.”
“He has reasons.”
“What happened before?”
“That’s not your business.”
“Then my answer is still no.”
She looked at the envelope in her hand.
“I’m not trying to buy you.”
“You showed up at my apartment with ten thousand dollars.”
“When you say it like that—”
“How else should I say it?”
She closed her eyes.
Then footsteps sounded on the stairs.
Daniel appeared first.
Luca was behind him.
Vanessa’s face changed.
Not fear.
Humiliation.
She had wanted one conversation outside Luca’s control, and he had arrived anyway.
Luca stopped halfway down the hall.
He did not approach.
“Olivia?”
“I’m fine.”
“Do you want her to leave?”
Vanessa turned toward him.
“Ask me.”
He looked at her.
“Do you want to leave?”
“No.”
“Then I’m asking Olivia.”
I looked from one to the other.
The envelope suddenly felt ridiculous.
“Yes,” I said. “I want her to leave.”
Luca nodded.
He did not order Vanessa.
He simply waited.
Vanessa’s fingers tightened around the envelope.
Then she placed it on the hallway radiator.
“For your medical expenses.”
“I said no.”
“Then throw it away.”
She walked toward the stairs.
Luca stepped aside to let her pass.
At the landing, she stopped.
“You got the ring back, didn’t you?”
Luca’s face did not change.
“That was never the point.”
“To you.”
She continued down.
A minute later, the building door slammed.
Daniel went after her.
Luca remained in the hallway.
I opened the door enough to take the envelope from the radiator.
He watched me.
“You going to keep it?”
“No.”
I tore it open.
Inside were one hundred crisp hundred-dollar bills.
Ten thousand dollars was heavier than I expected.
My hands trembled.
Luca looked away, which was kind.
I put the money back into the envelope.
Then held it out to him.
“Give it back.”
“You can keep it.”
“I know.”
“You need it.”
I looked at him.
“Don’t.”
His mouth closed.
I hated how quickly shame had arrived.
Not because I needed money.
Because he had noticed.
“I have seventy-four dollars until payday,” I said. “I also have rent paid, groceries for four days, and a job. Needing ten thousand dollars doesn’t mean I want hers.”
Luca took the envelope.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“Assuming.”
I nodded.
That apology I could use.
He looked toward the stairs.
“Vanessa shouldn’t have known where you live.”
“How did she?”
“I’m finding out.”
I groaned.
“What?”
“You’re doing the operation thing.”
He stared at me.
Then, unexpectedly, he laughed.
It was quiet and brief.
“Apparently I am.”
I leaned against the doorframe carefully, on the good side.
“Maybe ask Mrs. Carter before interrogating the city.”
“I was going to ask payroll.”
“That sounds slightly less dramatic.”
He nodded.
Then he held up the envelope.
“What do you want done with this?”
“Return it.”
“All of it?”
“Yes.”
“You didn’t count it.”
“She said ten thousand. I’m choosing to believe her about one thing today.”
That made him smile again.
He turned to leave.
Then stopped.
“Elena gave me the ring.”
I looked at him.
“Okay.”
“I thought you’d want to know.”
“Does it affect whether I’m safe or employed?”
“No.”
“Then I stand by my earlier policy.”
He nodded.
“Fair.”
He started down the stairs.
“Mr. Moretti?”
He looked back.
“What are you going to do with it?”
The green velvet box was visible in his coat pocket.
He touched it once.
“I don’t know.”
May you like
That was the first answer I trusted completely.
