A Billion Reasons To Hate You

Chapter Three: A Whole Lot Of Pacing.

“Ew, no,” she snapped, lips tightening. “I’m not sleeping with you, you sleazebag. You’re old enough to be my grandfather’s father.”

Silas’s chuckle thinned out, turning bitter. “You'd better watch your attitude, lady. You’re on your final strike as it is, and that’s not even what I was suggesting. Or at least, not with me.”

Renee rolled her eyes, exhaling in disgust. “I’m not sleeping with the weird pervy f***s that come through your doors either.”

He laughed, a rasping sound that turned into a cough mid-chuckle. “But those weird, pervy f***s are so loaded, they could solve all your issues with a good, sloppy blowjob.”

Renee hesitated, her mind scrambling for the right words. A dozen answers flashed through her head, none of them good. The helpless feeling crept up her spine, pressing heavier the longer she stayed silent.

“Damn,” Silas said, followed by a more sinister chuckle. “You must be getting desperate. Can’t afford mommy’s medical bills? Has your mommy ever just tried not having cancer?”

Renee gritted her teeth. “I can’t wait till you piss off the wrong hooker and she—or he, I know you’re into that—slits your throat.”

Renee hung up and continued pacing. The deal he was offering went against everything she had promised herself, every line she had drawn, every shred of pride she still clung to. But the truth pressed down harder than her morals. This was the easiest way to fix her issues.

Her phone vibrated on the counter, sending a wave of nausea through her.

“Now f*****g what? Are you going to tell me the world is ending?” she yelled at her phone.

As she got closer to the phone, a text lit up the screen:

Miss Carrington, can you call us as soon as you’re available? We’re open 24/7. Thanks. – Sterling Bank Fraud Department

It felt like the ground gave out beneath her feet, apprehension flooding her so fast it left her breathless.

“Fraud department? Are you f*****g kidding me? Does anyone else want to kick me while I’m down?” Her voice rose with every word, fear creeping in around the edges.

The moment the last word slipped out, the power in her apartment went out. Daylight still filled the room, but the weight of her neglect pressed in on her, suffocating.

Renee’s chest heaved before a laugh tore out of her: wild, broken, full of anguish. “Of f*****g course, play silly games, win silly f*****g prizes,” she screamed, “Why wasn’t I just born a snail to pay for my past lives' crimes? This is too god-damn far.”

Renee slid to the floor, her body giving out under the weight of everything crashing down at once. She pressed her back against the kitchen cabinet, pulled her knees to her chest, and wrapped her arms tight around them.

The first sob burst out before she could stop it. She folded into her knees, shoulders shaking as a broken wail escaped her.

Her phone buzzed again, the vibration echoing through the empty apartment. She shut her eyes, attempting to wall off the world around her.

Get f****d. You only tell me bad news.

The buzzing didn’t stop. It rattled across the counter until the phone slipped and fell to the floor with a thud. Renee glanced up through tear-blurred eyes and caught the screen lighting up.

Silas.

She let the call ring out. She couldn’t bring herself to answer him, not when she knew he’d demand an answer.

On shaky hands and knees, she crawled across the floor to her phone. The glow of the screen stung her eyes as his call still lingered.

She pressed her palms onto the cold tile, staring at the missed call. Her thumb hovered over the screen, torn between calling back and protecting what was left of her peace.

Renee knew there was another option, though it might be worse — if such a thing were possible. Either path would take her somewhere she wouldn’t recognise herself anymore, and that was the one thing she still called her own.

She opened her contact list, frantically scrolling through hundreds of names until her thumb stopped on one in particular — the label unmistakable: 💀 Do not call unless LEVEL 10 emergency 💀. Her finger hovered over the call button, hesitation freezing in her chest, and for a split second, the phone registered the touch.

Her finger jerked back. She hadn’t even let it ring before she hung up and slammed the phone on the ground, her heart hammering as panic flooded through her body.

Get a grip, Ren, we’re not at level 10 yet. We do not need that traitor.

She glared at the screen as the idea of hearing his voice again made her stomach lurch, a sick dread that only he could evoke. Her hands curled into fists, digging her nails into her palms as a way to soothe herself.

Renee pushed herself up from the floor, wiping tears from her face with the towel still wrapped around her.

“I don’t need him, and I don’t need to f**k saggy d***s to fix this,” she muttered under her breath. “I’ll come out the other side eventually. I can do this myself.”

She called Sterling’s fraud department, pressing the phone tight to her ear as the tinny hold music filled the room. Twenty minutes of the same lifeless melody scraped at her nerves until she wanted to throw the phone at the wall, but that would only scratch two percent of her anger and solve nothing.

At last, a calm voice answered. “Full name, please?”

“Renee Carrington.”

“And the second and fifth numbers of your security code?”

“Two and nine.”

“Excellent. How can I help you today?”

“I received a text telling me to call.”

“One moment please—”

“Thank you. A named person on your account, Evan McAllister, attempted to transfer ten thousand dollars from your account. For any transfer over one hundred, we require the primary account holder’s permission. May we process the transfer?”

For a moment, the words didn’t register. Outrage was all she felt, flooding every thought. “No. No, you f*****g cannot. Remove him from my account. I didn’t authorise that, and I never will. Don’t you dare let him touch a cent of my money.”

“Yes, ma’am. No problem. I’ll remove his authorisation immediately and cancel the request. We’re sorry for troubling you. Have a good day.”

“Thanks,” she spat. “You too.”

The call ended. She stared down at her phone for a moment before letting out a heartwrenching scream that ripped through the room and bounced off the walls. Her hands shook violently as she began typing furiously, her thumb hammering the screen:

How f*****g dare you try to steal the money for my mom’s meds? How f*****g DARE YOU? You’re scum, Evan. If you have any sense, you won’t show your face around my apartment again. I’m selling your mom’s ring and paying someone to get you banned from every bar within a thousand-mile radius. You psychotic parasite.

Renee began pacing the length of her apartment again like a tiny whirlwind. Each step landed heavier than the last. She bit the inside of her cheek, a weak attempt to keep from exploding. The phone rested in her palm, mocking her, pushing her to say something she’d regret. She opened a new message to Evan, her thumbs flying before her brain could catch up.

She could f*****g die without those meds, you know that. I genuinely can’t believe you’d sink so f*****g low after everything I’ve done for you. I actually hope someone stabs you at this point. You deserve to go to hell.

She hit send so hard the screen tilted in her grip. Still fuming, she opened his contact and renamed it “Absolute Dickhead” — a small, petty victory in the war.

The moment she looked at the time, reality slammed back into her.

“f**k. I’m gonna be late.”

Silas didn’t forgive lateness. He didn’t forget it either. The last time she’d shown up behind schedule, he’d spent weeks making sure she regretted every second, and after what she’d just asked of him, it was going to be a hundred times worse.