“How much for all of it?”
The question hung strangely in the air.
A neighbor scoffed. “You planning to redecorate?”
The biker didn’t respond.
He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a thick envelope.
From a distance, it looked like a shake-down.
Like intimidation.
Like some biker about to pressure a desperate woman into giving him everything for nothing.
Amanda’s stomach twisted.
“I’m not giving it away,” she said, voice steadier than she felt.
He placed the envelope on the table.
“Didn’t ask you to.”
The neighbor whispered loudly, “Careful.”
The man who had examined the ring muttered, “This feels off.”
The biker’s tone didn’t change.
“How much for everything?” he repeated.
Amanda named a number that barely covered two months’ rent.
He didn’t negotiate.
He didn’t blink.
He counted the cash calmly.
Stack after stack.
Laid it down.
The yard went silent.
No one clapped.
No one smiled.
Instead, suspicion rose.
“What’s the catch?” someone asked.
The biker ignored them.
He looked at Amanda.
“You take cards?”
She shook her head.
He added more cash.
More than she had asked.
Now it didn’t feel generous.
