Chapter 7 - Chloe's True Colors
David Hughes did not walk out of Harrington Tower; he was practically dragged.
Two towering private security guards held him by the elbows, marching him through the glittering marble lobby where dozens of junior analysts, associates, and executive secretaries stopped to gawk. His briefcase had been seized. His security badge had been cut in half with heavy shears right in front of the reception desk.
"Don't touch me! I know my rights!" David yelled, but his voice was trembling and hysterical, sounding like a petulant child being ejected from a high-end department store.
They deposited him unceremoniously onto the icy sidewalk of Wacker Drive.
The wind off the river whipped his hair into a chaotic mess, biting through his wool suit. His Porsche was still parked in the underground garage, but the security team had informed him that access was denied pending a court-ordered asset freeze. He had to hail a yellow cab like a common commuter, his pockets empty of cash, his corporate credit card already declined when he tried to use it on the cab's digital terminal. He had to scrape together twenty-four dollars in loose change and crumpled bills from his wallet to pay the furious driver.
When David finally arrived back at the Lincoln Park townhouse, he was shivering violently, his teeth chattering, his mind reeling in a state of absolute, shattering shock.
*Harrington.*
*She was a Harrington.*
*The entire time.*
He pushed the front door open, slamming it behind him. "Chloe!" he screamed, his voice cracking. "Chloe, where are you?!"
Chloe appeared at the top of the stairs, wearing a brand-new silk robe she had ordered using David’s primary credit card that morning. She held a cup of artisan tea, looking irritated.
"Why are you screaming, David? And why are you back so early? I thought the closing lunch was going to run until two."
David ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time, grabbing her by the shoulders. His eyes were wide, bloodshot, and wild. "Pack your bags. We have to go. We have to leave right now."
Chloe pulled away, wrinkling her nose at his disheveled appearance and the smell of cold sweat radiating from his skin. "What are you talking about? Pack my bags? For where? Did we get a suite at the Drake to celebrate?"
"We’re ruined, Chloe!" David shouted, his hands waving spastically. "The pitch is gone! Meridian is fired! Arthur fired me in the lobby! I don't have a job! My bank accounts are frozen!"
Chloe froze. The lazy, seductive expression on her face vanished in an instant, replaced by a cold, calculating sharpness.
"What do you mean, your accounts are frozen?" she asked, her voice dropping its soft purr. "What happened to the fifteen-million-dollar deal?"
"Clara..." David stammered, sinking onto the top step, burying his head in his trembling hands. "Clara isn't who we thought she was. Her father... her father is Richard Harrington."
Chloe stared at him. "Richard Harrington? The billionaire? The one who owns half the city?"
"Yes! Yes!" David sobbed. "She owns the building! She wrote the pitch! They’re suing me for intellectual property theft! They filed grand larceny charges for the thirty-two thousand I pulled from the joint account—the money I used for your bracelet!"
Chloe’s eyes immediately darted down to her right wrist. Her fingers curled protectively over the paved diamonds of the Cartier Love bracelet.
"Grand larceny?" she whispered. "Did you use stolen money to buy this?"
"I didn't know it was stolen! It was in our joint account!" David looked up at her, reaching for her knees like a drowning man grasping at seaweed. "Chloe, baby, listen to me. We can get through this. I have connections in Dallas. We can pack the car, drive south, start over. As long as we have each other—"
Chloe took two swift steps backward, completely out of his reach.
The transformation was terrifyingly instant. The sweet, giggling twenty-three-year-old girl who had fed him strawberries at Gibson’s the night before had vanished. In her place stood a woman whose eyes were as cold and sharp as broken glass.
"Are you insane?" Chloe said, her voice dripping with disgust. "Go to Dallas? With a broke, unemployed felon facing federal fraud charges?"
David blinked, stunned. "Chloe... what are you saying? You said you loved me. You said I was a shark."
"You’re not a shark, David," Chloe sneered, stepping past him into the master bedroom and pulling two large Louis Vuitton suitcases from the closet. "You’re an idiot who threw away a billionaire heiress because you wanted a trophy to stroke your pathetic ego."
"Chloe, don't do this!" David scrambled after her into the bedroom. "I left my pregnant wife for you! I ruined my life for you!"
"Nobody asked you to kick her out into a snowstorm, you psychopath!" Chloe snapped, violently shoving her designer clothes into the suitcases. "You told me you were going to be a partner! You told me you owned this townhouse! You lied to me about everything!"
"Give me the bracelet," David demanded suddenly, his voice rising in desperation. "Give it back! If I return the bracelet to Cartier, Marcus Vance might drop the larceny charge! Give it to me!"
He lunged toward her wrist.
Chloe didn't hesitate. She grabbed a heavy marble jewelry tray from the nightstand and swung it with all her strength, catching David across the cheekbone.
The crack echoed in the bedroom.
David stumbled backward, clutching his bleeding face, howling in pain.
"Touch me again, and I’ll tell the police you assaulted me," Chloe snarled, zipping her bags with a vicious tug. "This bracelet is a gift. It has my name on the store registry. It’s mine."
She dragged her suitcases toward the stairs, her high heels clicking loudly against the hardwood.
David lay on the floor, blood dripping through his fingers, listening to her footsteps fade down the stairs. The front door slammed shut. The sound of a car engine revved in the street, and then—silence.
Before David could even push himself up from the floor, the heavy thud of the brass door knocker sounded downstairs.
*Bang. Bang. Bang.*
David’s heart leaped. *She came back,* he thought deliriously. *Chloe came back, or Clara realized she couldn't live without me.*
He scrambled down the stairs, wiping blood from his cheek with his sleeve, and yanked the front door open.
Standing on the porch were two uniformed Cook County Sheriff’s deputies, accompanied by a man in a gray suit holding a clipboard.
"David Hughes?" the deputy on the left asked, his hand resting casually on his utility belt.
"Yes?" David wheezed.
"I’m Deputy Miller," the officer said, stepping across the threshold without waiting for an invitation. "This is an emergency order of eviction and asset seizure issued two hours ago by Judge Harrison. Harrington Real Estate Holdings owns the deed to this property through a corporate umbrella. Your residency has been terminated immediately due to material fraud and unauthorized subletting."
"What?" David cried. "You can’t do this! I have a lease!"
"The lease was executed fraudulently using proprietary corporate funds," the man with the clipboard said dryly. "You have fifteen minutes to collect one bag of personal essentials. Everything else in this house—furniture, art, electronics—is subject to an emergency judicial lien."
"Fifteen minutes?!" David screamed, tears and blood mixing on his face. "Where am I supposed to go?!"
May you like
Deputy Miller looked at him with complete indifference. "I suggest you call an Uber and check into a motel on Cicero, Mr. Hughes. You have fourteen minutes."
***
