Chapter 6 - The Fall of Chloe
The motel near LaGuardia was a drab, two-story concrete box tucked between an expressway off-ramp and a car rental lot. Rain beat relentlessly against the thin glass of room 114, where Chloe was furiously pacing across the stained carpet, clutching an infant who wouldn't stop screaming. Julian sat on the edge of the unmade queen bed, his head buried in his hands, surrounded by their five monogrammed leather suitcases.
""You said your family was old money!"" Chloe shrieked, slamming a plastic bottle down onto the dresser. ""You told me we were moving into a historical brownstone with a garden! You told me that plain little mouse of a wife would take her settlement and scurry back to whatever hole she crawled out of!""
""Shut up, Chloe!"" Julian snapped, raising his bloodshot eyes. ""Just shut up! I didn't know Mom had changed the will! Elena was supposed to be weak! She never questioned anything I did for seven years! She was a nobody from upstate who worked as Mom's physical therapist! How was I supposed to know she was poisoning my mother’s mind?""
""She didn't poison anything, you idiot! She outsmarted you!"" Chloe spat, wiping mascara from beneath her eyes. ""And what about the men from Montreal? The ones you said we were coming to New York to get away from?""
Julian grabbed his briefcase from the nightstand and popped the locks, revealing neat stacks of hundred-dollar bills totaling twenty thousand dollars—the exact sum he had tried to humiliate me with at JFK. ""We take this cash, we buy three one-way tickets to Miami, and we disappear. My buddy runs a charter yacht company in Fort Lauderdale. We can start over.""
""Start over?"" Chloe laughed, a shrill, hysterical sound. ""With a baby and twenty grand? Do you know how much Liam's formula costs? Do you know what private preschool costs? I didn't leave my boutique in Montreal to live in a trailer park in Florida with a fugitive!""
Before Julian could answer, the door of room 114 was kicked off its latch with a thunderous splintering of wood.
Chloe screamed, diving across the bed to shield the baby as two massive silhouettes filled the doorway. V. Moreau stepped into the room, shaking the rain from his coat with terrifying calm. His partner entered behind him, closing the cracked door and standing with his broad back blocking the only exit.
Julian scrambled backward against the headboard, his face as pale as chalk. ""Moreau! How... how did you find me? I told you I’d have the deed tomorrow morning!""
""You won't have the deed tomorrow morning, Julian,"" Moreau said smoothly, pulling a wooden chair from the desk, turning it around, and sitting down. ""You won't have the deed next year, either. Because your mother died three months ago, and your ex-wife possesses the kind of legal firewall my employers respect.""
""Elena..."" Julian choked out. ""She lied to you! She manipulated my mother!""
""Elena gave us the District Attorney’s dossier,"" Moreau interrupted, his voice dropping to a deadly whisper. ""She showed us the revoked power of attorney. You didn't just borrow two million dollars from us, Julian. You committed international bank fraud using fabricated collateral. Do you have any idea what my superiors do to people who waste their time and insult their intelligence?""
Chloe dropped to her knees, trembling violently. ""Please! I didn't know anything about this! I swear to God! I met him eighteen months ago in Montreal! He told me he was an investor! Take his bags! Take his money! Just let me and my baby go!""
Julian stared at Chloe in disbelief. ""Chloe? What are you saying? We’re a family!""
""We’re nothing!"" Chloe screamed back, tears streaming down her cheeks. ""You're a broke, lying con artist!""
Moreau glanced at the open briefcase on the bed, noting the stacks of bills. He pointed a leather-gloved finger at his partner, who stepped forward and swept the cash into his coat pocket.
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""That's twenty thousand,"" Moreau noted. ""Which leaves one million, nine hundred and eighty thousand dollars outstanding. You have two choices, Julian. You can walk out of this motel with us tonight, or you can let the New York City Police Department take you into custody for the felony warrants your ex-wife's attorney is filing at nine o'clock tomorrow morning.""
Julian looked at Chloe, who turned her face away in disgust, and then at the dark, relentless gaze of Moreau. The empire of lies he had constructed had vanished in less than twelve hours, leaving him with nothing but a rain-soaked motel room and the crushing weight of his own hubris.
