Chapter 2 - THE MAN BEHIND THE SCREEN
Julian stared at Elena’s phone.
“Still logged in?”
Elena nodded.
“Right now.”
I stood immediately.
“Do not disconnect him.”
Julian looked at me.
“Why?”
“Because if Victor is still inside the system, I want to know what he is looking at.”
Elena glanced toward the security office.
“I already called Marcus.”
Marcus Reed had managed our private security for eleven years.
He did not frighten easily.
When we entered the monitoring room, he was standing behind three screens with the expression of a man who had discovered a stranger sleeping inside his bedroom walls.
“Mrs. Vance.”
“What do we have?”
He pointed at the center screen.
“Remote access through a cloned administrator credential.”
“Whose?”
“Yours.”
Julian turned toward me.
I felt a chill move along my arms.
I had never shared my administrator password with Chloe.
Not once.
Marcus continued.
“Whoever created the duplicate account knew enough about the system to disguise it as routine maintenance traffic.”
“How long?”
“Forty-three days.”
Julian’s face hardened.
“Almost exactly since Chloe started spending nights here.”
No one said what we were all thinking.
Marcus clicked through the access history.
“Victor opened camera feeds.”
“Which cameras?”
“Main foyer.”
“Private office corridor.”
“Wine room.”
“Foundation study.”
“Your bedroom hall.”
Julian stepped closer.
“My room?”
“Yes.”
I looked at Marcus.
“Did he download anything?”
“We can’t tell yet.”
“Find out.”
Julian turned toward me.
“Mom, we need police.”
I agreed.
But before Marcus could reach for the phone, a notification appeared on the screen.
Remote user disconnected.
Victor had left.
Marcus cursed under his breath.
“Did he know we were watching?”
“Possibly.”
Elena looked toward the doorway.
“Could Chloe have warned him?”
Almost certainly.
Julian heard it too.
He removed his phone.
“I’m calling her.”
I caught his wrist.
“No.”
He stared at me.
“You want answers.”
“Yes.”
“But not answers she has time to manufacture.”
That stopped him.
I had spent thirty-five years negotiating with people who smiled while hiding knives behind contracts.
The first mistake frightened people make after discovering a liar is confronting them before securing the evidence.
Chloe already knew we had the recorder.
She did not yet know we had discovered Victor’s access.
That gave us one advantage.
I intended to keep it.
Marcus began copying the logs.
I changed clothes upstairs.
When I looked at myself in the mirror, I almost did not recognize the woman staring back.
My real silver hair was damp.
My cheek was red from the dirty water.
There was soil beneath two fingernails.
For the first time, I understood exactly why Elena’s voice had trembled when she originally told me what Chloe did to the staff.
Cruelty looks different when it is aimed downward.
People like Chloe rarely mistreat those who can hurt them.
They practice on the people they believe cannot.
I showered quickly and changed into black trousers and a cream blouse.
When I returned downstairs, two police officers were speaking with Marcus.
Julian stood near the window.
He looked older than he had that morning.
One officer took my statement.
Another photographed the recorder, the bucket, and the wet uniform.
Elena provided her own account.
Luis arrived after the training session and agreed to speak about Chloe’s previous behavior.
He looked embarrassed when describing how she had made him kneel.
I hated that embarrassment.
It belonged to Chloe.
Not him.
When the officers finished, one of them warned us that the digital access would likely require a deeper forensic investigation.
Then he asked whether any money had actually been taken.
“Not that we know of.”
He nodded.
“Then preserve everything.”
“We will.”
As the officers left, Julian finally spoke.
“I need to know who Victor is.”
“So do I.”
He turned toward me.
“You have investigators through the foundation.”
“Yes.”
“Use them.”
I studied him.
“You’re sure?”
His laugh contained no humor.
“Four hours ago I was choosing honeymoon hotels.”
“Now I’m asking whether my fiancée was spying on my family.”
“I’m sure.”
I called Daniel Price.
Daniel had spent twenty years conducting corporate investigations before joining our foundation’s compliance division.
I gave him one instruction.
“Victor H.”
“That is all I have.”
“Connected to Chloe Mercer.”
“Find him.”
Daniel called back forty minutes later.
His first sentence made Julian sit down.
“There’s no Victor Mercer.”
I put the phone on speaker.
“What does that mean?”
“The cousin story appears false.”
Julian leaned toward the phone.
“Then who is he?”
“We found a Victor Hale.”
My eyes narrowed.
“Connection?”
“He and Chloe shared an apartment in Boston seven years ago.”
Julian went silent.
Daniel continued.
“They were not listed as relatives.”
“How were they listed?”
“Partners on a lease.”
Julian’s face changed.
“Business partners?”
Daniel paused.
“The landlord described them as a couple.”
The room seemed to shrink.
Julian stood.
“No.”
I touched his arm.
He pulled away without meaning to.
Daniel continued carefully.
“There is more.”
“Tell us.”
“Victor Hale has been named in two civil fraud complaints.”
“One in Massachusetts.”
“One in Connecticut.”
“Neither resulted in criminal conviction.”
“What kind of fraud?”
“Romantic financial exploitation.”
Julian stared at the phone.
I closed my eyes for a moment.
Daniel explained.
In both cases, wealthy individuals alleged that Victor entered their social circle through a woman.
The woman became romantically involved with the target.
After gaining trust, the couple allegedly obtained access to financial documents and tried to pressure the target into investments or asset transfers.
Neither woman had been named publicly.
Settlements sealed most of the records.
Julian’s voice sounded distant.
“Was the woman Chloe?”
“We don’t know yet.”
“Find out.”
“I’m working on it.”
The call ended.
Julian walked across the room and stared through the windows into the garden.
I gave him several minutes.
Then his phone buzzed.
He looked down.
His face twisted.
“What?”
He handed me the phone.
Chloe had posted a photograph on social media.
It showed her sitting in the back of a car with red eyes and smeared mascara.
The caption read:
Sometimes the person you love most chooses money and control over truth.
Within minutes, comments flooded beneath it.
Friends asked whether she was safe.
Someone wrote that wealthy families often destroy outsiders.
Another demanded that Julian “grow a spine.”
Then Chloe posted again.
This time she did not mention me by name.
She did not have to.
I was secretly recorded inside the home of someone I trusted.
I was tricked by a woman pretending to be domestic staff.
I am still processing how violated and frightened I feel.
Julian stared at the screen.
“She’s making herself the victim.”
“Yes.”
“She dumped water on you.”
“Yes.”
“She talked about taking our money.”
“Yes.”
“And somehow she’s the victim.”
“That is what people like Chloe do when evidence arrives before their explanation.”
Julian paced.
“Should I respond?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because she wants you emotional.”
“She wants you typing.”
“She wants something she can screenshot.”
His jaw tightened.
“I hate this.”
“I know.”
Ten minutes later, my phone rang.
It was our attorney, Margaret Ellis.
Her first words were not comforting.
“Caroline, Chloe’s lawyer has contacted me.”
“What does she want?”
“An emergency agreement.”
I almost smiled.
“Already?”
“She claims you illegally recorded private conversations and intentionally caused emotional distress.”
Julian laughed bitterly.
“She abused my mother.”
Margaret heard him.
“Julian, I assume you’re there.”
“I am.”
“Then both of you need to prepare for something.”
“What?”
Margaret exhaled.
“Chloe claims she is pregnant.”
No one spoke.
Julian stared at the phone.
I felt the room tilt slightly.
Margaret continued.
“She says the child is yours.”
Julian sat down slowly.
“That’s impossible.”
His voice became a whisper.
Then he corrected himself.
“No.”
“It’s not impossible.”
I looked at him.
He rubbed both hands over his face.
Chloe had just changed the battlefield.
And she knew it.
Before any of us could speak again, Elena appeared in the doorway.
She held a small envelope.
“This was pushed under the service entrance.”
“When?”
“Just now.”
Marcus moved first.
He checked the exterior camera.
No one was visible.
I opened the envelope carefully.
Inside was a single photograph.
It showed Julian asleep in his bedroom.
The photograph had clearly been taken from inside the room.
May you like
On the back, someone had written:
YOU SHOULD HAVE LET THE WEDDING HAPPEN.
