The door had barely closed when Irvin rubbed both hands over his face.
“Don’t get mad at me,” he said, “but we should at least think about it.”
“You have until tomorrow morning to reconsider.”
I stared at him.
“We know the truth,” he continued. “She knows the truth. Why risk your business over an apology nobody important would believe?”
“Because then she learns she can hurt us until we say whatever she wants.”
“And if we don’t, you could lose six years of work.”
Neither argument was ridiculous. That was the problem.
***
The next morning, we found out just how serious Vanessa had been about her deadline.
“We know the truth,”
My phone began filling with messages from neighbors. She had started circulating screenshots of conversations with Irvin.
Can you come over? I need you.
Give me ten minutes.
You’re a lifesaver. Heart emoji.
