The call went a variety of ways, depending on who James was swindling. Some threatened him with the police, until James reminded them that their secret would be out with the click of a button. If it was a sex tape, it would be uploaded to numerous porn websites, along with the family’s social media pages, thanks to James’ hacker. Many of them begged and cried before their rage swelled to the surface. Some threatened him with violence, while others threatened to find him and kill him.

What surprised James about the people like Neena’s father wasn’t just their compliance, but that they often didn’t even ask who he was or why he was doing it. That would be the first thing James would want to know. But some people’s secrets were so dark that they didn’t want to prolong the ordeal any longer than necessary. They were his favourite type of catch.

The courier would collect the money just after sunrise and meet James in the next village over. James would pick up the rental car an hour before, and be waiting for the money to land in his lap. Nothing could be traced back to him. The car he would drive to meet the courier wouldn’t be his own, the messages between Neena and Richard could be used to pin him for the crime, along with the hotel room Richard had paid for and led Neena towards, right in front of the CCTV cameras. James liked Richard. He was a good man, a powerful lover, and had often shown real devotion in his eyes. But every time James felt his heart flutter, he reminded himself that those were traits of the weak. Richard was a fool for baring his heart, to trust someone who had the power to destroy him. James would never allow himself to be vulnerable like that. Never again.

He glanced up at the clock and drummed his fingers on the counter. Amber had said she would bring the wine, but he had poured himself a glass anyway to numb his nerves. Once the money was in his possession, he would sip champagne. It wasn’t something he looked forward to any more, but a part of his routine that he was reluctant to tamper with. There was something incomparably sad about drinking a glass of champagne alone.