A few minutes later, the frosted door swung open. A man walked out. He looked to be in his late 40s, impeccably groomed, wearing a navy suit without a tie. He shared Beatrice's sharp jawline and straight nose, but his eyes were entirely different: Beatrice's eyes were sharp, evaluating; this man's eyes were flat, dead.
He walked toward Sadie holding the cream-colored envelope.
"Ms. Miller," he said. His voice was pleasant, practiced, and utterly hollow. "I'm Richard Hayes. I understand there was some confusion with Mr. Caldwell at your place of employment."
"No confusion," Sadie said, keeping her chin up. "I understood him perfectly. I just said no."
Richard sighed—a soft, patronizing sound. He stopped a few feet away, invading her space just enough to establish dominance without being overtly aggressive.
"Let's be frank, Sadie. Can I call you Sadie?" He didn't wait for an answer. "My mother is an elderly woman suffering from a degree of cognitive decline. She wandered off from her security detail. You happened to be there when she fell. For that, I am grateful."
"She didn't wander off," Sadie corrected him, her voice hard. "She went for a walk."
Richard offered a thin, tolerant smile. "Regardless, you assisted her. That is commendable. But my mother is a very wealthy, very prominent woman. When individuals of her stature have interactions with individuals in your socioeconomic bracket, it often leads to complications: future claims of injury, attempts at extortion."
He held out the envelope again.
"This is $50,000, tax-free. A gift. All you have to do is sign the NDA, and we never speak again. It's a very simple, very lucrative transaction."
Sadie stared at the envelope. $50,000. Her brain short-circuited. It was an astronomical sum: it was a new apartment, a car that didn't break down, the ability to sleep through the night without waking up in a cold sweat over the electric bill. It was freedom, neatly packaged in cream-colored paper.
All she had to do was take it, and admit that she was exactly what Richard Hayes thought she was: a scavenger looking for a payout, a parasite.
Her stomach churned. The acidic diner coffee she'd had for breakfast threatened to come back up. She looked at Richard's flat, dead eyes. He wasn't looking at a human being; he was looking at a line item on a risk-assessment spreadsheet.
"You think I want to extort you?" Sadie whispered, her voice rough.