Chapter 3 - The Secret Woman
Chloe Adams didn't look like a high-powered corporate executive. She looked like a woman who had just realized she was standing on the tracks with an express train barreling toward her.
She sprinted past the police tape, her high heels catching in the soft lawn, and pounded her fists against the newly repaired front door.
“Daniel!” she screamed, her voice cracking. “Daniel, open the damn door! They’ve frozen the company payroll! My corporate Amex was declined at the hotel! Daniel, pick up your phone!”
I stepped onto the porch.
The door closed behind me with a solid, echoing *click*. Arthur stood behind me, his arms crossed over his chest like an immovable guardian.
Chloe froze. Her hand stayed suspended in mid-air. She lowered her designer sunglasses, revealing puffy, bloodshot eyes.
“Who the hell are you?” she demanded, looking me up and down. “Where is Daniel? His mother said he was here dealing with a squatter.”
A dry, bitter laugh escaped my lips. “A squatter. Is that what he called me?”
Chloe blinked, her gaze flickering to the yellow tape, the locksmith working on the frame, and the sheer authority radiating from the porch. “Wait… you’re Clara?”
“I’m Clara Mercer,” I said, walking down the steps until I was standing two feet from her. “The sole owner of this house. The woman whose inheritance funded the company you work for. And the legal wife of the man who left you holding the bag.”
Chloe stepped back, her bravado faltering. “I don't know what you’re talking about. Daniel and I… we have a purely professional relationship.”
“Really?” I pulled my phone from my pocket and unlocked it, displaying a photograph on the screen.
It was a screenshot of a hotel invoice from the St. Regis in Aspen from three weeks ago. Room service for two, champagne, couples massage, and a penthouse suite—all billed to *Mercer Strategy Group*, signed with Daniel’s flamboyant signature, with Chloe’s name listed as the secondary occupant.
Chloe gasped, bringing her hands to her mouth.
“Daniel told you he was divorced, didn't he?” I said softly.
Chloe’s lower lip began to tremble. “He… he told me you were in a psychiatric institution in Connecticut. He said you were unstable, that you refused to sign the final decree, and that he was just waiting for the court to grant him abandonment status.”
“Look around you, Chloe,” I said, gesturing to the sprawling brick home, the quiet suburban street, the reality of my clear, unmedicated eyes. “Do I look like I’m in an asylum?”
“He… he took out a line of credit yesterday,” Chloe stammered, tears spilling freely over her cheeks now. “He told me the money was cleared. He told me we were flying to Lisbon on Friday. I resigned from my board position yesterday morning! I signed the company tax filings as Chief Operating Officer because he said his signature was under audit!”
Arthur Vance stepped down the stairs, his voice cutting like a scalpel.
“You signed the corporate tax filings, Ms. Adams?” Arthur asked, his eyes narrowing.
Chloe looked at him, terrified. “Yes! Daniel said it was standard procedure while he settled his domestic affairs!”
“Then I suggest you retain a criminal defense attorney within the hour,” Arthur said dispassionately. “Because Daniel transferred three-quarters of a million dollars of fraudulently obtained funds into an account registered under your signature yesterday afternoon. As of 6:00 AM today, the State Bureau of Financial Regulation considers you a co-conspirator in grand larceny.”
Chloe’s knees literally gave out. She collapsed onto Eleanor’s manicured grass, her designer bag spilling open. Lipsticks, compacts, and a stack of printed flight confirmations scattered across the dirt.
“He lied to me,” she whispered, staring into the mud. “He told me he loved me. He told me he was going to buy me a house in Sintra. He said his mother loved me like a daughter!”
“Lorraine doesn't love anyone,” I said, looking down at her without an ounce of pity, but without malice either. She was just another victim Daniel had consumed to feed his insatiable ego. “Lorraine loves Daniel’s money. And when the money is gone, she’ll eat him alive too.”
Chloe looked up at me, desperate. “What do I do? Please, Mrs. Mercer… Clara… I have an eight-year-old daughter. I didn't know he was stealing from you! He told me the company was entirely his!”
I tilted my head, looking down at the red folder tucked under my arm.
“If you want to stay out of federal prison, Chloe, you have exactly one chance,” I said.
“Anything,” she sobbed. “Tell me what to do.”
“Get in your car. Drive directly to the State Attorney’s Office in downtown Hartford. Ask for Agent Harris,” I instructed. “Give her every password, every ledger, every email, and every private message Daniel ever sent you. Tell her where the cold-storage crypto wallets are hidden. You give them Daniel on a silver platter before he finds out you’ve spoken to me.”
Chloe scrambled to her feet, gathering her scattered belongings with trembling hands. “Will that save me?”
“It will save you from spending the next ten years away from your daughter,” I answered. “Now go. Before Daniel realizes you’re not at the airport.”
Chloe didn't look back. She scrambled into her car, slammed the door, and tore down the street, leaving a cloud of exhaust in the crisp morning air.
Arthur watched her tail lights disappear. “Ruthless, Clara. Eleanor would have been proud.”
May you like
“I’m not being ruthless, Arthur,” I said, turning back toward the house. “I’m surviving. Let’s go inside. We have an eviction notice to prepare.”
***