Mia's mood instantly improved.
"If you screw this up again, I'm giving you guys a terrible review," she warned. "What a joke. This is the second time. If you guys have the time to waste, I certainly don't."
She huffed, adding, "My friend told me your site was a guaranteed hit, which is why I came to you. I even gave you a tip. If you don't pull this off, I'll expose you and demand all my money back!"
The voice on the other end went silent. Two agonizing minutes passed before the synthetic voice replied, "Rest assured."
"Rest assured, rest assured. That's what you say every time, but I'm stressed out of my mind! How do you fail twice in a row? 'Guaranteed hit' my ass!"
Truthfully, Mia believed them now that they promised results. She was just habitually condescending, trying to inflate her own ego. After all, having someone do her dirty work for a fraction of the cost was the best deal she had ever found.
When she first stumbled onto the site, the admin claimed they didn't even need money—she just needed to make a sincere wish. Mia thought that sounded like a scam, so she had wired some cash to grease the wheels. Her mother had always taught her that financial transactions were the only reliable bonds in the world.
After the first two failures, Mia was incredibly smug about her foresight. If she hadn't paid them, they probably would have ghosted her after the first botched attempt. But because money had exchanged hands, they were locked in. As long as her wish wasn't fulfilled, the contract stood. She had essentially hired an elite hitman for pennies.
So, while she trusted them to get it done, it didn't stop her from complaining. She was the paying client. They owed her results.
"By the way," she added, "how secure is your operation? The police might be looking into me. Am I going to get dragged into this?"


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