The apartment on 4th Street was the polar opposite of the Stone mansion. It smelled of cheap popcorn, Mary's vanilla-scented candles, and the faint, lingering scent of rain from the open window.
"I'm telling you, Ed, he's obsessed," Mary said, waving a butter-stained finger at Edna. They were curled up on the mismatched sofa, Edna in her oversized university hoodie and Mary in fuzzy pajama pants. "A man like Scott Stone doesn't argue in elevators for forty minutes unless he's feeling something. It's science."
Edna laughed, tossing a kernel of popcorn at her friend. "It isn't science, Mary. It's friction. We're like oil and water. He's a jerk who thinks the world revolves around his bank account, and I'm just the girl who had the nerve to point it out."
"Yeah, but oil and water make a mess, and messes are fun," Mary teased.
The laughter was cut short by a sharp, rhythmic knocking at the door. It wasn't the friendly thump of a neighbor or the hurried rap of a delivery driver. It was a cold, demanding sound.
Edna and Mary exchanged a look. "Are we expecting anyone?" Mary whispered.
"No," Edna said, standing up and smoothing her hoodie.
When Edna pulled the door open, she felt the temperature in the hallway drop thirty degrees. Standing there, looking like they had been beamed down from a different planet, were Emily Stone and Theresa Blackwood.
Emily held a handkerchief to her nose as if the very air of the hallway was toxic. Theresa stood behind her, her emerald gown replaced by a sharp white power suit that cost more than Edna's entire college education.
"Edna Rivers, I assume?" Emily said, her eyes sweeping over Edna's hoodie with a look of profound pity.
"Mrs. Stone," Edna said, her voice surprisingly steady. She didn't move to let them in. "And Theresa. To what do I owe this... unexpected visit?"
"We're coming in," Theresa snapped, stepping forward as if she owned the floorboards.
Mary stood up from the couch, her jaw dropping. "Whoa, who are the Stepford Wives?"
Emily ignored Mary entirely, stepping into the small living room with a graceful, predatory elegance. She looked at the sagging sofa and the chipped coffee table as if they were museum artifacts of poverty.
"Let's not waste time," Emily said, turning to face Edna. "My son is a man of intense focus, Miss Rivers. Occasionally, that focus gets diverted by... novelties. You are a novelty. A brief, messy distraction from a very important merger and a very important life."
Edna leaned against her kitchen counter, crossing her arms. She didn't look intimidated; she looked bored. "A 'novelty'? That's a new one. I usually get 'lowly girl' or 'inconvenience' from your son."
Theresa stepped closer, her eyes flaring with heat. "Don't be glib. You know why we're here. You're a scholarship student. You're poor. You're struggling. We're here to offer you a graceful exit."
Emily reached into her designer handbag and pulled out a slim, gold-embossed checkbook. She scribbled something with a fountain pen and ripped the paper out, laying it on the coffee table.
"Five hundred thousand dollars," Emily said softly. "More than you would make at Stone Industries in ten years. All you have to do is resign tomorrow and move out of the city. We'll even provide a recommendation for a firm in Chicago."
Mary whistled from the corner. "Damn, Edna. That's a lot of popcorn."
Edna looked at the check. Then she looked at Emily Stone. Finally, she looked at Theresa, who was watching her with a smug, expectant grin. Theresa was waiting for the 'lowly girl' to scramble for the money. She was waiting for Edna to prove that she was just as bought-and-paid-for as everyone else in their world.
Instead, Edna picked up the check.
Theresa's smirk widened. "I knew you had a price."
Edna didn't put the check in her pocket. She slowly, methodically, tore it in half. Then she tore it again, and again, until it was nothing but white confetti. She let the pieces flutter onto the floor like snow.
The silence that followed was deafening. Emily's eyes widened. Theresa looked like she had been slapped.
"What is wrong with you?" Theresa shrieked, her composure finally breaking. "That was half a million dollars! What kind of effrontery is this? Who do you think you are to turn that down?"
"I'm the girl who doesn't want your money," Edna said, her voice like iron. She took a step toward Theresa, her height nearly matching the other woman's despite her lack of heels. "You think everyone has a price because you were bought a long time ago. You've spent your whole life trying to fit into a mold the Stones made for you. But I like my life. I like my dignity. And I especially like the fact that I'm the only person in Scott's life who doesn't have a 'For Sale' sign on my forehead."
"You think he cares about you?" Emily hissed, her mask of elegance slipping to reveal the viper beneath. "He will tire of you in a week. He will crush you like a bug on a windshield."
"Maybe he will," Edna said, walking toward the door and holding it wide open. "But that's between me and Scott. Not me and his mother's checkbook. Now, please leave. My roommate and I were having a very nice night before the trash was brought in."
Theresa was shaking with a mix of rage and genuine confusion. She couldn't understand it. In her world, money was the ultimate weapon. What gave this girl the right to be so unshaken? What gave her the nerve to stand there in a moth-eaten sweatshirt and look down on a Blackwood?
"You'll regret this," Theresa whispered, her voice trembling. "I will make sure there is nothing left of you when I'm done."
"I've been 'nothing' before, Theresa," Edna replied with a cold, sweet smile. "It's not as scary as it looks. Goodnight."
As the door slammed shut, Mary let out a breath she'd been holding for three minutes. "Holy. Crap. Edna! You just tore up five hundred grand! I mean, I love your dignity, but we could have bought a boat!"
Edna leaned her back against the door, her heart finally starting to race. "I don't want a boat, Mary. I want to see the look on Scott's face when he finds out what they did."
"You think he knows?"
"No," Edna said, a strange, new softness entering her eyes. "He's a jerk, but he's not a coward. He would never send his mother to do his dirty work."
Down in the lobby, Theresa was pacing like a madwoman while the chauffeur opened the door to the limousine. "Did you see her, Emily? Did you see the way she looked at us? Like we were the ones who were beneath her!"
"I see," Emily said, her voice cold and hollow. "She's more dangerous than I thought. She isn't after the money, Theresa. She's after the man. And that makes her an enemy we cannot afford to underestimate."