Chapter 9 - The Confession of Chloe Vance
The interrogation room inside Marcus’s private security facility didn't look like a dungeon; it looked like an upscale corporate conference room, save for the massive one-way mirror spanning the entire length of the far wall and the heavy steel-reinforced door locked securely from the outside.
Sitting at the center of the minimalist oak table was Chloe Vance.
Her designer clothes were wrinkled and damp, her carefully applied makeup smeared in dark streaks down her cheeks from hours of hysterical crying. Gone was the triumphant, sneering mistress who had stood in our garage holding a baseball bat like a trophy. Now, she was just a terrified, cornered animal realizing that her wealthy sugar daddy could no longer protect her from the consequences of her own sadistic actions.
The heavy door clicked open, and I stepped into the room, closing it softly behind me.
Chloe jerked her head up, her eyes widening in sheer panic as she recognized me. She scrambled backward in her chair, the metal legs scraping harshly against the polished concrete floor. "Clara! Oh god, Clara, please! You have to listen to me! It wasn't my fault! Derek made me do it!"
I walked slowly toward the table, pulling out the chair opposite her and sitting down without saying a word. I rested my hands flat on the wood, staring at her with a cold, detached indifference that unnerved her far more than screaming ever could.
"He... he told me Willa was ruining our plans," Chloe sobbed, her voice cracking as she clutched her trembling hands together in her lap. "He said if we didn't scare her into keeping her mouth shut about our affair, you would find out, and he would lose his entire inheritance. He handed me the bat, Clara! He literally put it in my hands and told me to make an impression!"
"And filming it?" I asked, my voice dangerously soft, cutting through her hysterical monologue like a razor blade. "Was filming it also his idea, or was that your special contribution to the afternoon's entertainment?"
Chloe choked back a sob, her eyes darting frantically toward the one-way mirror as if expecting Derek to burst through the glass and save her. "He... he wanted proof. He wanted to use it as leverage against me so I couldn't blackmail him later. We were both out of our minds, Clara! We were drinking, we didn't know what we were doing—"
"Nineteen times, Chloe," I said, leaning forward slightly, narrowing my eyes. "Nineteen distinct skull fractures on a seven-year-old child. You didn't just 'lose your mind.' You methodically, systematically beat my little girl until her brain began to bleed out onto the concrete floor."
"I'm sorry! I'm so, so sorry!" Chloe wailed, slumping forward onto the table and burying her face in her arms. "Just let me go! I swear I'll leave the state, I'll change my name, you'll never see or hear from me again!"
"You're right about one thing," I said, standing up slowly and smoothing down my skirt. "You are going to leave the state. In fact, you're going to leave the country."
Chloe raised her head, a desperate flicker of hope igniting in her tear-stained eyes. "Really? You'll let me go?"
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"Marcus has arranged a private cargo flight for you tonight," I replied, my voice completely devoid of warmth. "Destination: a maximum-security federal penal colony in a jurisdiction where Derek's family money doesn't exist, and where your cellmate will be every bit as charming as you were in my garage."
As I turned and walked toward the heavy steel door, Chloe’s screams of absolute terror echoed behind me, bouncing off the concrete walls and fading into silence as I locked the door from the outside.
