Chapter 7 - Chloe’s Ultimatum
The fallout wasn't just hitting the Bennetts; it was consuming everyone who had conspired in the shadows.
On a rainy Friday evening, as I was reviewing property tax assessments in my home office, my doorbell rang.
I didn't open the door immediately. I checked the security camera monitor on my desk. Standing on the porch, shivering under a cheap plastic poncho, was Chloe Vance.
Gone were the designer clothes, the oversized sunglasses, and the smug, triumphant smile she had worn at O'Hare airport while pushing matching luggage beside Daniel. Without her pharmaceutical expense account and corporate backing, she looked tired, haggard, and thoroughly terrified.
I pressed the intercom button. "You're trespassing, Chloe."
"Rachel—please," Chloe’s voice cracked through the speaker, muffled by the sound of the rain. "I just need five minutes. Please. I know you hate me, but I have nowhere else to go."
I stared at the monitor for a long moment, then reached out and unlocked the front door, pulling it open just enough to look out at her. I didn't invite her in.
"You have two minutes, Chloe," I said coldly. "Start talking."
Chloe clutched her plastic poncho tighter around her shoulders, tears mixing with the rain on her cheeks. "Daniel lied to me," she whispered, her voice shaking. "He told me you two had been separated for two years. He said you were just waiting on a quiet, amicable divorce filing. He swore up and down that your name was off the accounts and that the vacation was just a clean break before we moved to Zurich together."
A cold, humorless smile touched my lips. "And you believed him?"
"He's a doctor, Rachel!" she cried defensively. "He had money, status, influence... I thought he was invincible."
"Well," I said softly, "now you know what happens when an invincible man hits a concrete wall."
"He's planning to blame everything on me," Chloe blurted out, panic making her voice rise hysterically. "He told the federal investigators that I masterminded the pharmaceutical kickback scheme, that I forced him to funnel the endowment funds into my shell company! He's throwing me to the wolves to save his own skin!"
I looked at her with absolute, detached pity. "That sounds like Daniel. He always was exceptional at surgery—especially when it came to cutting away anyone who became a liability."
"I have the text messages, Rachel," Chloe said desperately, reaching into her soaked handbag and pulling out a waterproof ziplock bag containing a flash drive. "Every single conversation. Every instruction he gave me on how to fake the vendor invoices. Every plan to drain your joint accounts before you noticed. I downloaded the server backups before his corporate access was revoked."
I looked down at the flash drive in the ziplock bag.
"Hand it over," I said quietly.
Chloe hesitated for a fraction of a second, realizing this was her only remaining bargaining chip with the federal prosecutor. Then, with a resigned sigh, she dropped the plastic bag onto the porch mat at my feet.
May you like
"Will this... will this keep me out of prison?" she whispered.
"That's between you and the U.S. Attorney," I replied, picking up the bag. "Exit stage left, Chloe. And if I ever see you near my neighborhood again, the federal judge won't be the only one reviewing these files."
