Chapter 2 - Public Scrutiny and Private Debts
Within forty-eight hours, I was discharged from the hospital and moved directly into Arthur’s sprawling estate on the shores of Lake Washington. The house was a fortress of glass, stone, and meticulously manicured gardens, far removed from the sterile minimalism of the suburban colonial Vance and I had called home. Yet, safety felt fragile.
The media had already caught wind of Vance’s abrupt termination from Sterling Enterprises. Financial blogs and local tabloids buzzed with speculation: Mid-Level Executive Ousted in Late-Night Boardroom Purge; Sterling Chairman Intervenes Personally. But none of the reporters had connected the dots to me yet. They didn't know I was Arthur’s daughter. If they found out, the media circus would engulf not just me, but newborn Noah.
I sat in the vast, sunlit conservatory, nursing Noah while Arthur dealt with his legal team in the study down the hall. The external hard drive sat on the glass coffee table before me like a ticking bomb.
The heavy mahogany doors of the conservatory opened quietly. A woman in her late fifties entered, her silver-streaked blonde hair styled to perfection, her cashmere wrap draped elegantly over her shoulders. Victoria Sterling—Arthur’s younger sister, my aunt.
She had arrived from London late last night upon hearing the news. Unlike Arthur’s raw, protective intensity, Victoria possessed an icy, analytical composure that made it difficult to read her thoughts.
"He’s sleeping," Victoria noted, pausing by the bassinet and peering down at Noah with an expression that was polite rather than warm. "He has Arthur's eyes. Unfortunate for a boy; that much intensity rarely brings happiness."
"He’s healthy," I replied neutrally, adjusting the blue blanket. "That’s all that matters right now."
Victoria pulled up a chair opposite mine, folding her hands in her lap. Her gaze drifted to the hard drive on the table. "I see Vance left a parting gift. Typical of a desperate man with delusions of grandeur. You shouldn't look at it, Chloe. Men like Vance use ghosts to haunt the rooms they were kicked out of."
"How do you know it's from Vance?" I asked, looking straight into her cool, blue eyes.
Victoria didn't flinch. A faint, knowing smile touched the corner of her lips. "Because I know the type. Ambitious, hollow men who believe the world owes them a seat at the head table just because they married into the right orbit. Vance didn't just happen to apply to Sterling Enterprises five years ago, Chloe. I reviewed his initial hiring file."
My heart skipped a beat. "You reviewed his file?"
"Arthur was searching for you for decades," Victoria said smoothly, leaning back. "Some of us believed the search was a distraction from running the company. When an ambitious young man named Vance Lawson applied for an entry-level analyst position with glowing recommendations from your late mother’s hometown, I took an interest. I wondered if he knew something we didn't."
"Did he?"
"No," Victoria said, her tone dropping into something colder. "He was entirely ignorant of who you were when he met you at that charity auction. But once he figured it out—once he realized whose daughter his unassuming college girlfriend actually was—he played his cards carefully. He married you not for love, Chloe, but as an insurance policy against his own mediocrity."
The words hit me like physical blows, confirming the darkest suspicions I had tried to push away. But something in Victoria’s delivery—too rehearsed, too convenient—rubbed against my instincts.
"You make it sound like you've known the truth about my marriage for a long time," I said softly.
Victoria’s smile faded. Before she could answer, the conservatory doors swung open again, and Arthur strode in, his face pale and grim.
May you like
"Chloe," Arthur said, ignoring his sister entirely. "The police just recovered Vance’s car abandoned near the docks. He’s gone. But before he vanished, he uploaded the contents of that hard drive to a public legal database. The story breaks in an hour."
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