When Vivian opened her eyes again, the light was blinding.
She blinked slowly, trying to piece together what had happened. She was no longer in the car. Her head throbbed, her body numb. As she sat up, the once existence of handcuffs bit into her wrists.
The room was eerily beautiful.
Floor-to-ceiling windows bathed the space in warm sunlight. Outside, trees waved gently in the breeze. A large bed with crisp white linens sat untouched. Fresh roses in a crystal vase perfumed the air. An abstract painting in crimson and gold loomed on the wall. The floor gleamed beneath her, stone, maybe marble. Everything gleamed. Everything was... curated.
It was the kind of luxury she'd only seen in magazines.
But she wasn't here to admire the art. She staggered to her feet, her legs shaking, using the wall for support. Wherever she was, it wasn't home. And whoever had brought her here hadn't done it with good intentions.
She was about to try the door when the knob turned.
Vivian froze.
The door creaked open, and in walked Harrison.
Her breath caught.
Even now, with terror lodged in her throat, she felt it, that undeniable pull. His tailored jacket, the confident ease in his stride, the glint in his eyes. A boy she'd once fantasized about. A boy who now felt like a stranger.
He sat down casually on the white sofa, crossing one leg over the other. "Sit," he said with a nod.
She didn't move.
"Sit, Vivian."
Reluctantly, she obeyed, settling into the armchair across from him. She kept her eyes on the floor, her hands trembling in her lap. Her voice felt trapped somewhere between her chest and her throat.
He picked up his phone and typed something. Then, with a slow exhale, he placed it on the table.
"You're Vivian Jen," he said, his tone sharp but steady. "Your father left behind a mountain of debt. Four-point-five million, if I'm not mistaken."
She said nothing.
"Your mother's out there selling grilled meat and juice by the roadside, trying to pay it off. Noble effort. But let's be honest, how far do you think she'll get? You've managed, what? A hundred thousand in three years?"
Vivian's fingers curled into fists. Her throat burned.
He smiled without humor. "And meanwhile, your father's body still lies in a storage unit, unburied. Imagine the smell."
She flinched. The words hit harder than a slap.
Her voice cracked. "We've done our best."
"Your best isn't enough." He leaned forward. "But I'm here to help. You want that debt gone? You want to give your mother peace? I can make that happen."
She finally met his eyes.
"Samuel's court date is set," he said. "You'll testify. But not for Anna. For us."
Vivian's heart pounded. She knew what was coming.
"You'll say they slept together. That it was consensual. That Anna seduced him."
"No." Her voice was a whisper. Then louder: "No. He raped her."
Harrison's face darkened.
From the corner of the room, another voice chimed in. "Five million," said Daniel, one of Samuel's friends, stepping into view. He looked irritated. "Five million for the truth as we define it."
"I saw him rip her clothes off," Vivian said, her voice rising. "I saw—"
"Deal or no deal?" Daniel snapped.
Vivian hesitated.
The number echoed in her head. Five million. Enough to pay off the debt. Enough to bury her father. Enough to free her mother.
And enough to bury her soul.
"I'm doing this for my family," she muttered.
"Is that a yes?" Harrison asked.
"Deal."
———-
They didn't waste time.
Minutes later, Samuel's lawyer entered, a young man in a clean-cut suit with a practiced smile and a briefcase.
"Miss Vivian Jen," he greeted her. "We understand you're ready to make a statement."
He pulled out a compact camera and set it on a tripod, his movements efficient and polished.
"You'll say the following," he instructed, sliding into the seat across from her. "I was there the night Anna and Samuel were together. But what happened wasn't assault. It was mutual. Anna kissed him first. She seduced him."
Vivian's stomach turned.
He counted her in.
"One... two... three."
It took three tries. On the third, her voice didn't crack. She said the words, every syllable like poison.
When it was done, the lawyer nodded with satisfaction. He reached into his case and pulled out a cheque.
"Two-point-five million," he said, sliding it across the table. "The rest after you testify in court."
Vivian stared at the paper. Then at her trembling hands.
It was done.
———-
She was blindfolded again for the drive back, this time without resistance. When the car stopped and the blindfold came off, she was on her street. The sun was beginning to set.
She walked into the house.
Her mother stood in the center of the living room, arms folded. The television was on behind her, muted. Vivian's image was frozen on the screen.
"Where have you been?" her mother asked quietly. "And what is this?" She pointed at the screen. "What did you say on that camera, Vivian?"
Vivian said nothing.
Her mother's voice cracked. "I thought you were going to the clinic to tell the truth."
Vivian dropped her bag on the sofa. The cheque fluttered from her hand.
"I did it for us," she said. "For you. For Dad. So we could bury him. So you could stop killing yourself on the street for scraps."
"You lied."
Vivian's voice rose, sharp with pain. "I sacrificed for us! I traded my best friend for your peace. I gave up everything so you could sleep at night."
Her mother stared at the cheque in her hands, her face pale.
"They have power, Mom," Vivian said. "They own everything. I'm not a hero. I'm not brave like Anna. I just... I wanted to survive."
Her voice broke.
She turned and walked to her room, closing the door behind her with a quiet finality. She collapsed onto the bed and curled into herself, heart pounding, throat raw.
The cheque was real. The lies were real.
And somewhere, Anna was still lying in that hospital bed.
And the truth had just been sold.