"Read it exactly as written. Don't skip a single word."
I picked up the paper. My hands wouldn't stop shaking.
Every line on that page turned the truth inside out. It pinned all the blame on me, claimed I had slandered Victoria out of jealousy and spite. It even stated that Anthony's faked death was a delusion, a product of my own psychological breakdown.
But I had no way out. None. So I swallowed everything I was feeling, read the script he'd prepared, recorded the video, and posted it.
When it was done, my whole body was ice cold, drenched in a thin sheen of sweat.
Anthony glanced at the wound on my neck. He pulled a checkbook and pen from his pocket, scrawled a string of zeros, and pressed the check into my hand.
He let out a long sigh.
"There's a million dollars here. Consider it compensation."
"Transfer to another hospital as soon as you can. Victoria shouldn't have to see you. It upsets her."
Then he turned and walked out.
I checked out of the hospital on unsteady legs. The moment I stepped outside, my phone rang.
It was my boss.