Chapter 3 - An Unexpected Knock
We didn't take an Uber back to our small apartment in Providence; we took the evening commuter rail. Sitting on the worn vinyl seats, watching the dark Rhode Island coastline blur past through the scratched window, Chloe leaned her head against my shoulder and fell fast asleep. Her little hand was still clutching her yellow ribbon.
I sat there wondering if our lives were about to get worse. My mother was wealthy, influential, and notoriously vindictive. Rachel had connections throughout the local social circuit. When my ex-husband had abandoned us three years ago with twenty thousand dollars in unpaid credit card debt, my mother had told the entire family that I was "defective" and "financially irresponsible," casting me out like a pariah while showering Rachel with seed money for failed boutique ventures.
Now, Chloe had publicly humiliated the golden daughter of the family in front of Newport's wealthiest elite. There would be retaliation.
We reached our modest fourth-floor walk-up around 9:00 PM. I gently carried Chloe up the stairs, tucked her into bed beneath her favorite floral comforter, and kissed her forehead. "You did nothing wrong tonight, baby," I whispered into the quiet room. "You were brave."
At 10:15 PM, while I was sitting at the laminate kitchen counter sipping lukewarm chamomile tea, three firm, measured knocks echoed on my front door.
My stomach dropped into my shoes. Had my mother sent the police? Had Rachel hired someone to intimidate us?
I approached the peephole cautiously. Standing in the poorly lit hallway was a tall man in a dark charcoal trench coat over a white tuxedo shirt. He had taken off his bowtie, leaving his collar slightly open.
It was Logan Montgomery.
I hesitated, keeping the safety chain engaged as I cracked the door open two inches. "Logan? How did you find my address?"
Logan looked exhausted, but his posture was respectful, his hands resting visibly in his coat pockets. "Your mother kept your rental co-signature on file in Rachel’s wedding binder. I’m sorry to intrude so late, Valerie. Truly. But I couldn't sleep tonight without seeing you and Chloe."
"If you're here to blame her—"
"I’m here to thank her," Logan interrupted, his voice thick with genuine emotion. "Please, Valerie. Ten minutes. That's all I ask."
I looked at the weary sincerity in his hazel eyes, unlatched the chain, and stepped aside.
Logan walked into our tiny living room. He didn't look at the peeling wallpaper or the worn sofa with pity; he looked around with a quiet sense of reverence. He placed a thick, sealed Manila envelope on the kitchen table.
May you like
"What is that?" I asked, folding my arms defensively.
"That is the full legal breakdown of the Montgomery family trust fund, along with the prenup Rachel had her attorney draft," Logan said, leaning against the counter. "My private investigator finished checking the files an hour ago. Rachel and Julian had been embezzling money from my firm's escrow accounts for over eight months to cover her luxury clothing line debts. This wedding wasn't a marriage, Valerie. It was a hostile takeover. If Chloe hadn't played that drive tonight, I would have signed the joint asset agreements tomorrow morning. I would have lost everything."
