Chapter 9 No Words to Clear My Name

Hayley pushed through the small crowd of reporters, ignoring their shouted questions, her head down. She reached her stepmother, who was now weeping dramatically for the cameras.

"Cory, stop this," Hayley hissed, grabbing her arm. "What are you doing?"

Cory's face, tear-streaked and pathetic a moment before, hardened. She grabbed Hayley's wrist, her grip surprisingly strong. "Don't you dare talk to me like that! I'm here for you! For your father! He's in a wheelchair because of the stress of your divorce!"

It was a blatant, disgusting lie. Her father's accident had happened years ago.

"How much, Cory?" Hayley asked, her voice flat and dead. "How much do you want to go away?"

"One hundred thousand dollars," Cory whispered, her eyes gleaming with greed. "For my pain and suffering."

Hayley laughed, a bitter, broken sound. "I don't have a hundred dollars, let alone a hundred thousand."

"Then I'm not leaving!"

The massive gates of the estate swung open. Francis Patton strode out, her face like a thundercloud. She waved a dismissive hand at the security guards. "Get rid of the press."

The guards moved to herd the reporters away. Francis's cold, unforgiving eyes landed on Hayley.

"You have some nerve," Francis spat. "Sending this piece of trailer trash to my home to extort money. You are just as low-class as I always said you were."

"I didn't send her!" Hayley cried, her voice desperate. "I just found out. I came to get her."

Cory saw her opening. She immediately started sobbing again. "She's lying! Hayley told me to come! She said the Pattons owed us!"

Hayley stared at her stepmother, horrified. The betrayal was so swift, so complete, it stole her breath.

A screech of tires announced Brad's arrival. He slammed the brakes on his Aston Martin and stormed out of the car, his face a mask of pure revulsion. He didn't even ask what happened. He just pointed a finger at Hayley.

"You greedy, manipulative bitch," he snarled. "I knew you wouldn't be satisfied. I knew you'd try to squeeze more out of us."

"Brad, that's not what happened-"

"Shut up!" he roared. He reached into his jacket, pulled out a checkbook, and scribbled something out. He tore the check from the book and threw it on the gravel at her feet. "Here! Take it and choke on it! Now get the hell off my property!"

Hayley looked at the check lying in the dirt. It was a replay of the scene at the courthouse, another attempt to buy her silence, to purchase her dignity.

She looked up, meeting his eyes. "I don't want your money, Brad."

He laughed cruelly. "Right. Then stay here and rot for all I care."

Cory, seeing her payday about to disappear, scrambled for the check. She snatched it from the ground and tried to run, but Francis was faster.

"Oh no, you don't," Francis said, grabbing Cory's arm. She nodded to a guard. "Get that from her."

The guard easily pried the check from Cory's grasp. Francis took it, tore it into tiny pieces, and let them flutter to the ground. "Throw her out."

Two guards hauled a screaming, struggling Cory off the property. "You'll regret this, Hayley!" she shrieked over her shoulder.

The courtyard fell silent. It was just Hayley, Brad, and Francis.

Francis walked slowly toward Hayley until they were face to face. Then, with a sharp, cracking sound, she slapped Hayley across the face.

The force of the blow snapped Hayley's head to the side. Her cheek stung, and her ear rang.

"You are trash," Francis said, her voice low and venomous. "Just like your mother. Always trying to claw your way into a world where you don't belong."