I thought that once I'd refused her the first time, Margot would at least stay quiet for a few days.
I didn't expect that the very next morning, the moment I reached the foot of the company building, I'd see a dense ring of people crowded across the plaza.
Dylan James, my assistant, came running over in a panic, his face pale. "Ms. Fox, we've got a problem!"
"That Margot Henson has been kneeling downstairs for almost an hour now, holding up a sign that says you'd rather let her mother die than lift a finger to help."
"People are filming videos and posting them online, and the comments are all calling you cold-blooded—"
I walked to the glass wall of the building and looked down.
Margot was in that same old T-shirt, washed until it was nearly gray, kneeling in the center of the plaza. A large sheet of white paper was spread in front of her, reading, "Please, kind souls, save my mother from kidney failure. Rich sister won't lift a finger."
She was crying her eyes out, sobbing to the crowd in broken fragments, "I'm not trying to force her. I really am at the end of my rope..."
"I offered to sell myself to Jasmine, to slave for her, just to borrow three hundred thousand to save my mother's life. But she said I wasn't worth three hundred thousand, and then she insulted the two of us..."
At once someone in the crowd chimed in.
"That's way too much. So what if she's got money!"
"Bullying poor people like that, isn't she afraid of what's coming to her?"
"Expose her! Let everyone see the face of this heartless woman!"
Camera flashes went off one after another, countless phones aimed at her.
I watched her performance coldly.
I was still watching when my phone rang. It was Eugene.
I picked up, and the other end came at me full blast. "Jasmine, are you satisfied now?"
"The whole city is laughing at the Delgado family!"
"Wire five hundred thousand to Margot right now, then run a public apology in the paper and make this go away!"
I laughed coldly. "She asked for three hundred thousand and you're throwing in another two hundred on your own. Eugene, aren't you generous with her."
"Is this about the money?" Eugene roared. "It's about our name!"
"I'm warning you, fix this fast, or I'm not done with you!"
I let out a soft sigh and, pretending to give in, said, "Fine, I'll give her the money."
"But on one condition. She signs a formal loan agreement, with the repayment date and interest spelled out. Otherwise, forget it."
Eugene faltered for a second, probably not expecting me to fold so suddenly, then said impatiently, "Fine, fine, she'll sign, whatever!"
"I'll send her to your office this afternoon. Have the money ready and don't pull any more stunts!"
I hung up and gave a cold little smile.
Margot, you think this three hundred thousand comes free?
This is the first piece of hard proof of your fraud.
At two in the afternoon, Margot showed up at my office right on time.
She wore that same pitiful look, apologizing under her breath the moment she came in. "Jasmine, I'm so sorry, I've caused you trouble."
"I really had no other choice, that's the only reason I stooped to this..."
I cut her off, pushing the printed loan agreement across to her, my voice flat. "Three hundred thousand, six percent annual interest, paid off within two years."
"Sign it, press your fingerprint, and the money hits your account right away."
Margot looked at the agreement, her whole face wronged. "Jasmine, do we really have to sign this?"
"I thought you were helping me because you actually cared..."
I cut her off again. "Helping you is a kindness. Not helping you is my right."
"For the three years you were in college, I paid for every last expense. I've already helped you plenty!"
"This three hundred thousand is a loan, not a gift."
"If you won't sign, you can leave right now, and you won't get a single cent."
She looked as if she'd suffered some unbearable humiliation, but in the end she picked up the pen and signed, then pressed down a bright red fingerprint. "Thank you, Jasmine. I promise I'll pay it back as soon as I can."
When she walked off with the bank card, her steps were light, the smugness in her eyes impossible to hide.
I watched her back with cold eyes, forcing down the urge to tear her apart on the spot.
That same evening, the hashtag "Rich woman relents and funds poor girl" hit the trending list. People praised the "power of public opinion" and praised Margot for being "strong and devoted to her mother."
I scrolled through the comments, expressionless, and saved the scanned copy of the loan agreement into an encrypted folder.
The higher she climbs now, the harder she'll fall later.
