Chapter 5 - The Rat Flees the Sinking ShipThe rain continued to lash against the windows of Victor’s armored Maybach as we sped through the wet Chicago streets toward our suburban home.
Inside the car, the atmosphere was thick with quiet, electric tension. Sophia had finally fallen asleep, her head resting softly against my lap, clutching a corner of my wool coat while her small chest rose and fell in steady rhythms.
Victor sat across from me, tapping rhythmically on the glass screen of his tablet as live security feeds from our suburban estate streamed in real-time.
"She didn't waste any time," Victor muttered, his voice cold as ice. He turned the tablet toward me.
On the screen, the high-definition security camera in our front foyer showed Chloe frantically unlocking the front door with a spare key she had clearly stolen or copied from Dominic’s office desk. She threw the door open, kicked off her heels, and rushed inside, shedding her wet emerald dress in the hallway as she hurried toward the master bedroom.
"She thinks Dominic’s offshore accounts and emergency cash reserves are hidden in the safe in his study," Victor observed, a faint, humorless smirk playing on his lips. "She's trying to clean out whatever liquid assets are left before the federal receivership locks down his personal properties."
"Let her try," I replied softly, stroking Sophia’s hair. "The safe in that study hasn't held money in three years. It only holds audit trails."
Twenty minutes later, the Maybach pulled smoothly into the circular driveway of our gated estate.
The house was dark except for the harsh, flickering glow of interior lights coming from the second-floor master study.
"Stay in the car with Sophia," Victor instructed the driver and the two armed security consultants sitting in the front seats. He turned to me, his hand resting on the handle of the car door. "I'll handle her."
"No," I said, gently setting Sophia down on the plush leather seat and wrapping my coat tighter around myself. "This one is mine."
We stepped out into the chilly, rain-swept night, walking silently up the stone steps of the porch. The front door was standing wide open.
Inside, the sound of drawers being violently yanked open and papers being shredded echoed down the hardwood hallway.
We walked upstairs without making a sound.
Chloe was standing in front of the open wall safe in Dominic’s private study. She had stripped out of her ruined evening gown and was wearing one of my silk robes—the very one hanging in the master closet—while frantically stuffing stacks of designer watches, gold cufflinks, and paperwork into a leather duffel bag.
"Damn it, where is the password?" she hissed to herself, slamming her fist against the keypad of the safe as error lights flashed red.
"It's our wedding anniversary, Chloe," I said smoothly from the doorway. "Though I wouldn't expect a mistress to keep track of real milestones."
Chloe spun around so fast she tripped over the edge of the Persian rug, tumbling backward against the mahogany desk before catching her balance. Her face went deathly pale when she saw me standing there, flanked by my brother Victor, whose towering presence filled the doorway like an executioner.
"Vivienne..." Chloe stammered, her voice pitching upward in panic as she instinctively tried to hide the duffel bag behind her back. "What... what are you doing here? You should be at the hotel!"
"The hotel party ended rather abruptly, didn't it?" I stepped into the room, my boots clicking softly against the floor. "Though I suppose you're used to picking through the trash after everyone else has left."
Chloe's panic rapidly curdled back into her trademark venom. She straightened her posture, pulling my silk robe tighter around her shoulders as if she owned the room.
"You can't touch me!" Chloe snapped, her voice rising hysterically. "I'm a corporate employee! This is theft! I'm calling the police!"
"Go ahead," Victor said quietly, stepping forward and tossing a heavy manila folder onto the desk right in front of her. "Dial 9-𒌓. Tell them you're currently trespassing in a residence owned by the Sterling Family Trust while attempting to loot assets tied to a federal wire fraud investigation."
Chloe stared at the folder, her bravado evaporating in a single second. Her hands began to shake violently.
"You... you can't do this," she whispered, tears of frustration springing to her eyes. "Dominic promised me! He said we were going to Europe! He said his wife was just a boring suburban shadow he was going to discard!"
"Dominic lied to you about a great many things, Chloe," I said, walking past her to close the open wall safe. "Starting with his bank accounts, his future, and his ability to protect you from the consequences of his actions."
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Right on cue, the distant wail of police sirens began echoing up the suburban street, growing louder with every passing second.
Chloe collapsed into the leather desk chair, burying her face in her hands as the full, crushing reality of her destruction finally settled in.
