Chapter 7 - The Diner
The bell above the door of the diner chimed, a cheap, tinny sound I had heard thousands of times during my double shifts.
The place smelled exactly the same: stale coffee, industrial cleaner, and burnt toast.
Trevor was sitting in a back booth. He looked entirely out of place in his tailored suit against the peeling vinyl seats. When he saw me, a smug, victorious smile spread across his face.
He didn't know the police were currently raiding his apartment.
He didn't know Chloe was sitting in a black SUV across the street with my husband.
I slid into the booth across from him. I placed a thick manila envelope on the Formica table.
Trevor immediately reached for it.
I slammed my hand down on top of it.
“Not yet,” I said.
Trevor leaned back, raising an eyebrow. “Playing tough, Sadi? Don’t. It doesn't suit you. Just hand over the signed settlement.”
I kept my hand on the envelope. In my pocket, the recorder—Roman’s recorder, the one I hadn't asked him about yet—was spinning.
“Why did you do it, Trevor?” I asked, keeping my voice steady. “You took the fifty grand from Roman. You were free. Why come back and try to ruin me?”
Trevor laughed, a harsh, grating sound. “Because you don't deserve any of this! You were pouring coffee for minimum wage. You have no education. No background. I was the one with the vision.”
“You stole my sketches,” I said flatly.
“I improved them!” he snapped, leaning over the table, his eyes wide and angry. “I forged your name because you would have messed up the deal! Vance wanted the designs, I gave them to him. We both got what we wanted. But then I see you—walking around like you own the city, married to the billionaire who paid me off? No. That’s my money. That’s my life you're living.”
“You set up a fake paper trail,” I pressed. “You logged into my email and sent those messages to yourself so you could blackmail me later.”
Trevor smirked. “Prove it. It’s your IP address. Your account. The court will look at you, a gold-digging waitress, and look at me, a respectable developer. Who do you think they'll believe?”
He reached into his jacket and pulled out a pen.
“Now, give me the settlement, Sadi. Before I decide ten million isn't enough.”
I slowly slid the envelope across the table.
Trevor grabbed it. He tore it open eagerly.
He pulled out the documents.
His smile vanished.
He stared at the first page. It wasn’t a settlement offer.
It was a blown-up, high-resolution photograph of the watermark hidden in my sketches. The words Designed by Sadi. Dedicated to E.R. circled in bright red ink.
“What is this?” Trevor whispered.
“It’s proof,” I said quietly. “My father was a watchmaker. He taught me how to hide my signature in the shading of my drawings. You submitted those exact drawings to the copyright office under your name.”
Trevor’s face turned paper-white.
“That’s a federal crime, Trevor,” I said. “Fraud. Forgery. Extortion.”
He dropped the papers. His eyes darted around the empty diner. Panic set in.
“You think this stops me?” Trevor hissed, standing up. “I’ll destroy the originals. I’ll say you doctored this photo!”
“You can’t,” a deep voice said from the doorway.
Trevor froze.
Roman stepped into the diner. He wasn't alone. Two uniformed police officers stood behind him.
“The originals are in a secure vault at my office,” Roman said, walking slowly toward the booth. “And the police have already recovered the hard drives from your apartment. The ones detailing your wire fraud against Chloe’s family.”
Trevor stumbled backward, hitting the edge of the table. “No. No, Chloe wouldn't—”
“She did,” I said, standing up.
The police officers moved forward, grabbing Trevor by the arms.
“Trevor Hayes, you are under arrest for extortion, wire fraud, and grand larceny,” the officer recited.
Trevor didn't fight them. He just stared at me, completely broken. The arrogant man from the boutique was gone, replaced by a terrified, hollow shell.
“Sadi, please,” Trevor begged as they handcuffed him. “We used to love each other.”
I looked at him, feeling absolutely nothing.
“You were an old mistake, Trevor,” I said, echoing the words he had used against me that morning. “And I don't belong somewhere like this anymore.”
They walked him out the door.
The diner was quiet again.
I turned to Roman. He looked at me with immense pride.
May you like
But I reached into my pocket and pulled out the small silver recorder.
“It’s over,” I said to Roman. “But before we go home... you need to tell me why Chloe had a tape recorder with your initials on it inside Trevor’s briefcase.”
