Chapter 3 - Shadows of the Past
Three days later, I was sitting in a dimly lit diner in Sacramento, facing a middle-aged woman named Clara Vance. Clara was tired-looking, with faint lines around her eyes and hands that trembled slightly as she held her coffee cup.
Four years ago, Clara had been the head housekeeper for a wealthy tech investor named Julian Vance. And four years ago, Victoria Lane had been Julian’s fiancée.
"She's a sociopath, dear," Clara said, her voice barely louder than a whisper as she looked around the empty diner. "Julian was grieving his late wife, just like your Mr. Hawthorne. Victoria moved into that house like a savior. She was sweet to his daughter at first. But as soon as the ring was on her finger, everything changed."
"What happened to the daughter?" I asked, leaning forward across the table.
"Sent away to a behavioral boarding school in Vermont," Clara said bitterly. "Victoria convinced Julian the girl was mentally unstable and reacting dangerously to her mother's death. She fabricated diary entries, staged incidents where the girl supposedly broke expensive art in the house... it was methodical."
"And Julian believed her?"
"Julian was so consumed by his own grief that he let Victoria handle everything. Two months after the girl was shipped off, Julian died of an unexpected heart attack. Victoria walked away with forty percent of his estate because they had signed a modified prenup right before the wedding."
My stomach turned. "A heart attack?"
"The coroner said it was natural causes," Clara said, her eyes darkening. "But I know what I saw. Victoria was altering his medication. I found empty prescription bottles in her private bathroom trash, but before I could take them to the police, she had me fired for stealing a diamond necklace."
The exact same blueprint. The exact same tactic.
"Did you go to the police?" I asked, outrage burning in my chest.
"Who was going to believe a housekeeper over a wealthy socialite?" Clara laughed bitterly. "Julian’s lawyers threatened to sue me into oblivion if I made accusations without hard evidence. I was scared, Emily. I had a family to feed. So I kept my mouth shut and moved away."
Clara reached into her handbag and pulled out a small, worn leather-bound notebook. She pushed it across the laminate table toward me.
"I kept records," Clara said. "Dates, names of the pharmacies Victoria used under aliases, and the contact information for Julian’s estranged daughter, Chloe. Chloe is nineteen now. She lives in San Francisco. If you want to stop this woman, you need Chloe's testimony."
I took the notebook, holding it like it was a sacred weapon. "Thank you, Clara. I promise you, she won't get away with this again."
I left the diner and drove straight to San Francisco. The clock was ticking. I had less than three weeks before Victoria officially tied the knot with Richard and shipped Ethan, Noah, and Liam off to Switzerland.
I found Chloe Vance working at a small bookstore near Union Square. She was a quiet girl with dark hair and sharp, guarded eyes. When I mentioned Victoria's name, her entire body went rigid.
"I don't talk about that woman," Chloe said, turning to walk toward the back storage room.
"She has three five-year-old boys right now, Chloe," I said quickly, following her down the narrow aisle. "Triplets. Their mother died when they were born. Victoria is doing the exact same thing to them that she did to you. She just had their nanny fired on fake theft charges, and she's shipping them to Switzerland next month."
Chloe stopped dead in her tracks. She slowly turned around, her breath catching in her throat.
"She's doing it again?" Chloe whispered.
"Yes," I said, stepping closer. "And if I don't stop her, their father might end up dead just like yours."
Chloe’s eyes widened in horror. "My father... you think she hurt my father?"
"Clara Vance gave me her notebook," I said softly. "I know about the medication. But I need your help to prove the pattern to Richard Hawthorne. He won't listen to me alone. He thinks I'm a bitter ex-employee."
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Chloe clenched her fists, tears pooling in her eyes. For a moment, she looked like the frightened fifteen-year-old girl who had been stripped of her home and her father. But then, her jaw set into a firm line of determination.
"What do we need to do?" Chloe asked.
