Chapter 4 - CHLOE HART
Chloe was seventeen weeks pregnant.
Not visibly enough for most people to notice beneath the fitted gown.
Julian knew.
Arthur knew.
Beatrice knew.
I had learned only six days before the ballroom.
That explained the line.
True future of my bloodline.
Julian believed Chloe carried a boy.
I had not seen medical proof.
Now Chloe was at St. Catherine’s under another obstetric team.
Bleeding lightly.
Stress.
No evidence of abdominal trauma.
Fetal heartbeat present.
I asked Rachel:
“Why was she admitted?”
“Because she needed evaluation.”
“I mean why here.”
“Nearest hospital.”
Fair.
“Is she under arrest?”
“No.”
“Witness?”
“I can’t answer.”
“You know.”
“I know some things.”
I hated professional boundaries when they applied to me.
Then Chloe requested to see me.
My immediate answer:
“No.”
Twenty minutes later:
“Actually yes.”
Rachel stared.
“You don’t owe her access.”
“I know.”
“Then why?”
“Because I want to see her face when I ask whether she knew.”
“Not a good reason.”
“Fine.”
“Try again.”
“Because if she is afraid of Julian, refusing may isolate her.”
Rachel considered.
“Better.”
The meeting occurred with hospital security outside.
Chloe entered in sweatpants and a borrowed sweatshirt.
Without makeup, she looked younger than twenty-two.
She stood beside the door.
“I’m sorry.”
“About what?”
“Everything.”
“Specific.”
She swallowed.
“I knew Julian was married.”
“Yes.”
“I knew you were pregnant.”
“Yes.”
“I knew Arthur wanted Julian to leave you after the baby came.”
“Did you know Julian planned to hit me?”
“No.”
Immediate.
I watched her.
“I didn’t.”
“Did you know he was going to announce you as the mother of his heir?”
Her eyes filled.
“He told me he would recognize the baby.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
“No.”
She looked down.
“Not like that.”
“Why did you cling to him?”
“I was afraid.”
“Of me?”
“No.”
“Of him?”
“Yes.”
“Why stay?”
She laughed bitterly.
“Where was I going to go?”
“You have a family.”
“My mom lives in Ohio.”
“So?”
“Julian had my phone.”
That changed the room.
“When?”
“After I told him I wanted to leave.”
“How long?”
“Two weeks.”
“Were you free to leave the house?”
“I could go places with a driver.”
“Alone?”
“No.”
“Did you tell police?”
“He said no one would believe the mistress over the Vances.”
I believed that he said it.
Not yet that every detail was true.
Evidence.
“Where were you staying?”
“Guesthouse on the Vance estate.”
I had never been inside.
Julian told me it was under renovation.
“How did you get to the ballroom?”
“Beatrice dressed me.”
The sentence sounded absurd.
Chloe continued:
“She told me today was when everything changed.”
“What did she mean?”
“I thought Julian was going to announce the baby.”
“Anything else?”
Chloe looked toward Rachel.
“Am I allowed to say this?”
Rachel said:
“You should speak with your own attorney before discussing anything that could expose you.”
Chloe nodded.
Good.
She was not my source.
Then she looked at me.
“Julian said you were nobody.”
I almost smiled.
“He was wrong.”
She stared at the cracked watch on my bedside table.
“I know.”
“How?”
“When the FBI came in, Arthur said your name.”
“What?”
“He shouted, ‘She did this.’”
Interesting.
Not proof of what he knew.
But Arthur understood I mattered.
Chloe left.
Before the door closed, she turned.
“Clara?”
“Yes?”
“Julian told me your baby would never inherit anything.”
I looked at her.
“Did he say why?”
“He said because your child wasn’t really part of the Vance future.”
There it was again.
Bloodline.
Inheritance.
Control.
Maybe Julian had been talking about more than gender.
Maybe he believed something about my daughter’s legal status.
Or maybe he was lying to Chloe too.
After she left, Rachel handed me a document.
Emergency federal asset-preservation order.
Vance Meridian Holdings.
Vance Family Office.
Several shell entities.
And one name I had not expected to see frozen.
The Clara Mercer Irrevocable Trust.
May you like
Julian had spent eighteen months telling everyone my money was separate from his family.
The FBI apparently disagreed that the structures had stayed separate.
