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“Like the rest of our terms this one is a non-negotiable and certainly more than you deserve.” Remi concludes stoically.
Marcel gapes, looking between Remi and me repeatedly, his rage easing into righteous indignation. “You are the one in violation of the prenuptial agreement. You are the one who made a whore of yourself for the whole world to see. You should be on your knees, begging me to take you back. Begging me to let you see your children. Instead you are wasting our time.”
I nod at Remi. “Send it now.”
He returns my nod and hits a button on his laptop. “I’ve sent you a video. Please watch it and then we will discuss,” he informs the three of them.
Then he leans back in his chair, crossing his arms almost leisurely, and gives Marcel a sinister smile. I love my big brother. He’s as flawed as anyone, but when he gets it right…he gets it right.
Their devices beep simultaneously, and they’re fingers moved in seemingly synchronized taps as they open the video.
I glance at Remi, and we share a silent high five. Then we both watch Marcel while my grenade blows up in his face.
It’s just a highlight reel. Him with Hanna. The conversation he had with the reporter of the magazine, after he’d sent him the picture, which he broke into my iCloud account to steal. Him getting a blowjob from the young man who I thought was his physical therapist. Him dragging me out of the room by my hair, while our ten-year-old daughter screamed and begged him to stop.
When everyone is finished watching, there’s an awkward beat of silence, before our mediator clears his throat and pushes his glasses up his nose. Marcel’s expression, when the tape ends, is nothing short of shell-shocked.
He came in here expecting me to ask him to take me back. To beg him to forgive me.
It didn’t occur to him, not once, that I might not stand down. I never minded that he didn’t think I was good for anything more than being a sparkly vessel to continue his line.
But I mind very much that he set me up and tried to ratfuck me out of my entire life. So, after more than ten years of being married, he’s finally getting a taste of the real me. And I can tell he doesn’t like my flavor—not one bit.
Marcel finally meets my eyes. He looks like he wants to rip my throat out with his bare teeth.
Or, maybe I’m projecting.
“You are out of your mind,” he snarls.
“How do you figure?”
“You want to blackmail me?” He bares his teeth like a rabid dog.
“Not at all. I’m just meeting you where you are. Now that I know you’re not naturally inclined toward doing what’s right, I’m incentivizing your behavior.”
“You wouldn’t show anyone those things.”
“Before you put that picture into the world, so our children could see it, that might have been true. You dragged my name through the mud. And you are completely crazy if you thought I’d stand by and let you ruin me and take my children. No.” I flare my nostrils and lean toward him. “And, I have one more term.”
Remi stiffens and puts a hand on my arm. “Regan, what is this?”
I ignore him and the guilt that tightens my throat and keep my eyes trained on Marcel, so he can see just how serious I am. “You will not try to identify or reveal anything you may have already learned about the man in that photo.”
His lips twitch, and if looks could kill, I’d be taking my last breath. But his glare makes this all even more satisfying. “You know, of course, that’s just a trailer, right?” I point at the phone in his hand. “You will do everything I just asked, or I’ll send the full feature film to TMZ, and anyone else who wants it.”
His face grows pale. “But…it would ruin me,” he cries, in disbelief.
I shake my head and make my smile regretful. “Yes, it would. But as you know, when you break the rules, you’ve got to live with the consequences.”
His eyes go black with rage, and he lunges across the table at me. “Fuck you, Regan. You can’t do this. I am going to bury you.”
Remi is on his feet so fast, he knocks his chair over. He steps in front of me and leans forward, towering over Marcel like an angry god. “You’re lucky I have people who depend on me. Otherwise, I’d tie you to this table and beat you with my shoe for what you did to my sister. And I’d go to jail with a smile on my face,” he spits.
Marcel may be burning with outrage, but he’s not crazy. He pales and wilts back into his seat. His expression is pleading now. “Remi, you are a man of integrity. This is a shakedown.”
Remi scoffs and sits, his gaze burning with loathing and still on Marcel’s pallid face. “This is a negotiation. You have choices.”
The next few seconds pass in tense silence.
