Chapter 12 - Chloe RunsChloe Sterling did not sound like the woman from my porch.
There was no smirk in her voice now. No polished cruelty. No rehearsed confidence.
She sounded breathless, like she was moving fast.
“Where are you?” I asked.
“No. I tell you, and your people come, and then he finds me.”
Mr. Harrison signaled for me to keep her talking.
“You called me,” I said.
“Because Julian is useless, and you’re the only one Eleanor actually scared them with.”
Julian stood near the archive door, face twisted with disbelief.
“Chloe,” he said.
The line went silent.
Then she laughed once.
“Oh, Julian. Of course you’re there.”
“Were you with Eleanor the night she died?” he demanded.
“Not for the reason you think.”
“Answer me!”
“Don’t start acting righteous now,” Chloe snapped. “You were ready to have your wife declared unstable so you could steal whatever she inherited.”
He flinched.
I felt nothing for him.
Good.
My mercy had more important places to go.
“What do you want, Chloe?” I asked.
“Protection.”
“In exchange for what?”
“Everything.”
Mr. Harrison mouthed: location.
I said, “If you want protection, we need to know where you are.”
She breathed shakily. “Grand Central. Lower level. Near the oyster bar. But if I see police first, I disappear.”
“Why should I trust you?”
“Because Barron sent Daniel Mercer to your house, and I have the payment trail.”
The room went still.
Julian whispered, “You knew?”
Chloe’s voice hardened. “I knew enough to survive.”
I looked at Mr. Harrison.
He nodded.
“We’re coming,” I said.
“No Julian,” Chloe said. “I mean it. He ruins everything he touches.”
For once, Chloe and I agreed.
We left Maya and Liam under Ruth’s protection inside the penthouse panic suite. Maya did not want me to go.
“Mom, she’s bad.”
“I know.”
“Then why help her?”
I brushed her hair from her face. “Because sometimes bad people carry truth.”
Maya thought about that.
“Are we bad if we use it?”
“No,” I said. “We’re careful.”
Grand Central at midday was a river of bodies. Commuters, tourists, office workers, police, vendors, everyone moving with purpose or pretending to. Mr. Harrison had contacted federal agents quietly. They shadowed the area without uniforms.
I spotted Chloe before she spotted me.
She looked terrible.
No white dress. No pearls. Her hair was shoved under a baseball cap. She wore sunglasses too large for her face and clutched a black tote bag like Ruth had clutched her satchel.
When she saw me, her mouth trembled.
Then she looked behind me.
“No Julian?”
“No.”
“Good.”
We sat at a small table near the edge of the dining concourse. Mr. Harrison remained close enough to hear.
Chloe removed a flash drive from her sleeve.
“Barron recruited me before Julian did,” she said.
My blood chilled.
“What?”
“I was never really Julian’s marketing director. HaleBridge placed me in his company.”
I stared at her.
“How?”
“Through a headhunter. Fake references. Real skills. Julian wanted someone young, flattering, ambitious. He was easy.”
Her honesty was disgusting.
And useful.
“You became his mistress for Barron?”
“At first.”
“At first?”
Her eyes flickered. “I didn’t plan to care.”
I laughed softly. “Please don’t insult me with romance.”
She looked down. “Fine. I cared about winning.”
That, I believed.
“What did Barron want?”
“Access to Julian. Through Julian, access to you. Through you, access to Eleanor’s estate and the tower.”
“Why kill Eleanor?”
Chloe’s fingers tightened around her coffee cup.
“Because she found the real ledger.”
Mr. Harrison leaned in.
“What ledger?”
Chloe looked around before answering.
“Vance Tower was being used to launder money through shell tenants. Not Eleanor. Someone below her. Maybe several people. She found out and started building a case. Barron couldn’t buy the tower because Eleanor wouldn’t sell. So he planned to compromise the inheritance, discredit you, force a court-appointed financial manager, then acquire through distress.”
I felt sick.
My aunt had died because she protected more than a building.
She protected me from becoming the weak link in a criminal machine.
Chloe pushed the flash drive toward me.
“This has payment records, messages, burner numbers, everything I saved.”
“Why save it?”
“Insurance.”
“Why give it up now?”
Her eyes filled with terror.
“Because my insurance stopped working.”
She lifted her sleeve.
A bruise circled her wrist.
“Barron knows I copied files.”
For one second, she looked less like my enemy and more like a trapped animal.
Then a man in a gray coat walked past our table.
Chloe froze.
“Clara,” she whispered, “run.”
The man turned.
Scar on his chin.
Daniel Mercer.
But Daniel was supposed to be in custody.
Mr. Harrison moved first.
Federal agents rushed from two directions.
The man bolted into the crowd.
Chloe grabbed my arm. “That’s not Daniel.”
“What do you mean?”
Her nails dug into my skin.
“That’s his brother.”
A loud crack echoed through the station.
People screamed.
May you like
Glass shattered above us.
And Chloe Sterling fell forward onto the table, blood spreading across her shoulder.
