Chapter 4 - THE MASK SLIPS
Chloe’s breath caught in her throat. For a second, she looked as though she were staring at a ghost rising from a freshly dug grave. Her knees buckled slightly, and the heavy brass paperweight slipped from her nerveless fingers, thudding dully against the carpet.
“R-Richard...” she stammered, her voice shaking violently. “You... your legs... you’re...”
“Not paralyzed?” Richard finished for her, his grip tightening on her wrist until she whimpered in pain. “Never was, Chloe. Not since the second month after the accident. Imagine my surprise when I woke up from a medically induced coma and overheard you and my dear brother discussing my life insurance payout in the ICU corridor.”
Chloe’s face drained of every drop of color. She twisted frantically against his grip, but Richard’s strength—honed by months of secret, agonizing physical conditioning in his locked room—was absolute.
“Let me go!” she shrieked, her voice pitching up in panic. “Ethan! Ethan, help!”
“Don't bother screaming for your husband,” Richard said coldly, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and planting both feet firmly on the floor. He stood up slowly, towering over her. Though he was still recovering and leaned slightly to one side, his stance was undeniably upright, powerful, and terrifying. “Ethan is currently fast asleep, dreaming of the empire he thinks he inherited.”
I stepped back, my hand pressed against my stinging cheek where Chloe had scratched me, my chest heaving.
“She was going to inject him,” I said, looking at Richard. “With what was in that syringe.”
“Potassium chloride,” Richard said smoothly, his eyes never leaving Chloe’s terrified face. “It mimics a massive heart attack on an autopsy report. Clean, untraceable, and legally signed off by our family-paid physician. Isn't that right, Chloe?”
Chloe opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. Realizing she was cornered, her expression abruptly shifted from terror to a desperate, snarling defiance.
“You think you’re so smart, Richard?!” she spat, glaring up at him with unconcealed hatred. “You think a couple of loyal guards and a pathetic hired nurse from the city are going to protect you from what’s coming? Ethan controls the board of directors! Vitalis Health is already voting to strip your voting shares next week under your medical incapacity clause! Even if you stand up, you’re already bankrupt! We own the company, Richard! We own the lawyers! We own this house!”
Richard didn't flinch. A cold, sardonic smile touched his lips.
“You own nothing, Chloe,” he replied softly, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small, sleek black device—a digital recorder. He pressed a button, and the crisp, unmistakable audio of Chloe’s confession and her threats echoed back through the quiet bedroom:
“Time to finally put you out of your misery... Potassium chloride... We own the company, Richard!”
Chloe stared at the device, her jaw dropping. Color vanished from her face entirely.
“You... you recorded it,” she whispered.
“Every single word,” Richard said, slipping the recorder back into his pocket. “And right now, a secure encrypted copy of this audio, along with the complete forensic audit of your embezzlement scheme, is currently uploading to the federal prosecutor’s office and my primary corporate legal team in downtown Chicago.”
Chloe let out a strangled cry of rage and despair. She lunged forward to smash the device from his hand, but Richard sidestepped her with ease, giving her a gentle shove backward that sent her sprawling onto the rug.
May you like
“Maya,” Richard said, turning to me without breaking his calm composure. “Go down to the study. Open the wall safe behind the mahogany bookshelf—the combination is my mother’s birth year, 1951. Bring me the black leather briefcase.”
“Right,” I said, my heart pounding with a wild, triumphant rhythm. I didn't hesitate. I turned and sprinted out of the room, leaving Chloe kneeling on the floor in her silk robe, weeping tears of furious defeat.
