Chapter 4

Ethan came home very late that night.

When he pushed the door open, the stench of bourbon hit me instantly. His tie was crooked, and his eyes were bloodshot.

Valerie followed closely behind him, her eyes red and puffy as if she had just cried her heart out.

"Chloe Vance."

He stormed into the living room, his shoes thumping heavily on the floor. "Get over here."

I set my book aside and stood up.

"What the hell did you say to Valerie at the office today?"

He grabbed my wrist, his fingers digging into my skin.

"What did you call her?"

"I didn't—"

"She said you cursed at her!"

He shoved me backward.

"Did you call her a cheap little whore? Who the hell do you think you are to talk down to her?"

"She's my secretary! She's the person I trust most in this world! You're nothing compared to her!"

Valerie stood behind him, sniffling softly and dabbing at her eyes, her shoulders trembling with practiced vulnerability.

"Ethan, please, just drop it... Chloe was probably just in a bad mood..."

"A bad mood?"

Ethan swung back toward me, raising his hand.

"Being in a bad mood gives her the right to insult you? You don't know how petty she is!"

"I've supported her for three years, and all she does is cause trouble!"

*Slap!*

The metallic taste of blood flooded my mouth. A warm trickle ran down the corner of my lip.

"I'm sorry,"

I said, my voice completely flat, devoid of any emotion. "I shouldn't have said those things."

Ethan stopped dead in his tracks.

His hand hung frozen in mid-air. He clearly hadn't expected me to back down so easily.

Valerie's fake sobs stopped instantly as she peered at me in shock.

"Good. At least you know when you're wrong,"

Ethan muttered, slowly lowering his hand as his bluster faded.

"Just... don't let it happen again."

"Okay."

I nodded, lifting the back of my hand to wipe the blood from my chin.

Leaving a red smear across my skin, I turned toward the bathroom.

As I passed Valerie, I paused for a second.

Turning my head, blood still clinging to my lips, I smiled at her.

It was a slight, chilling curve. The movement tore the split on my lip wider, letting another drop of blood seep out.

Valerie instinctively recoiled half a step.

I walked into the bathroom and locked the door behind me.

In the mirror, the left side of my face was swollen, and my lip was split open.

I splashed cold water over it and pressed a bandage against the cut.

The following evening, while Ethan was in the shower, I walked barefoot into the study.

I nestled a tiny pinhole camera behind the potted plant on the second shelf of the bookcase, pointing the lens directly at his desk.

In the master bedroom, I mounted another on the top ledge of a framed painting, angled to capture the entire bed.

On the third night, Ethan brought Valerie home again.

They headed straight for the study.

I went into the bedroom, pulled on a pair of noise-canceling headphones, and tuned in.

"We just need one final signature for the project funding release," Valerie's voice came through clearly.

"Since Chloe signs off as the head of administration, any fallout lands entirely on her shoulders."

"Does she suspect anything?" Ethan asked.

"What could she possibly suspect? She doesn't even know how to balance an account."

Valerie chuckled softly.

"When the funds vanish and the investors demand an audit, her signature and her official stamp are on every single paper. All we have to say is that we were completely in the dark..."

"She'll go to prison for this, won't she?"

"Seven years minimum."

Valerie paused. "What's the matter, Ethan? Having second thoughts?"

Ethan stayed silent for a couple of seconds.

"Second thoughts? Don't be ridiculous,"

his voice turned icy.

"Once she takes the fall, transfer that five percent back under your name.

The company has to survive, no matter what."

I took off the headphones and let out a silent laugh.

Then, I pulled up my phone and sent a single text message:

*Evidence secured. Move the plan forward.*