Chapter 2

The sound of laughter drifted up from the living room, a light, carefree sound that made Chloe's stomach clench. She pushed herself out of bed, her body aching from the drug Cornell had given her. The headache was a dull, persistent throb.

She walked unsteadily to the top of the grand staircase and looked down.

Kenya Cline was draped over their white leather sofa as if she owned it, sipping a mimosa. Cornell was sitting on the ottoman in front of her, smiling.

"I need a new car, Corn," Kenya whined, pouting her surgically-enhanced lips. "That red Ferrari is just... tainted now. All that police drama. It' s bad for my brand."

Cornell reached out and tucked a strand of platinum hair behind her ear. The gesture was so casual, so intimate, it was like a punch to Chloe's gut. "Whatever you want, Ken," he said, his voice soft. "We'll go shopping this afternoon."

"And that stupid old man who was the driver," Kenya went on, waving her hand dismissively. "His face was so pathetic. Can't we just send him to another country or something? I don't want to ever see him again."

Chloe's breath caught in her chest. Stupid old man. She was talking about her father. A man who had built his life on integrity and kindness, reduced to an inconvenience by this vapid, cruel girl.

Kenya looked up then and saw Chloe standing on the stairs. A malicious grin spread across her face. "Oh, look who's awake. Morning, wifey."

Something inside Chloe snapped. The grief, the betrayal, the rage-it all exploded in a single, silent scream. She flew down the stairs, her only thought to wipe that smug look off Kenya's face.

She launched herself at the girl on the sofa, her hands reaching for her throat.

"Chloe!" Cornell yelled, jumping to his feet.

He grabbed her from behind, his strong arms wrapping around her waist, pinning her arms to her sides. He was like a steel cage, immovable.

"Let go of me!" Chloe screamed, struggling against him. "She's a murderer! She killed my father!"

Kenya scrambled to the other end of the sofa, her eyes wide with mock fear. "Cornell, she's crazy! I didn't do anything!"

"You were drunk! You blocked the ambulance! You were laughing!" Chloe shrieked, her voice raw.

"Let me go, Cornell! Let me go!"

"Kenya, apologize to her," Cornell said, his voice tight with annoyance, his grip on Chloe unrelenting.

"What? Why?" Kenya whined.

"Just do it."

Kenya rolled her eyes. "Fine. Sorry your dad died or whatever."

The words were so callous, so utterly devoid of remorse, that Chloe stopped struggling. A cold, heavy silence fell over her.

"See? She apologized," Cornell said, as if that solved everything. "Now let's all just calm down."

He was treating this like a spat between children, not a confession to negligent homicide.

"It wasn't enough," he sighed, seeing the dead look in Chloe's eyes. He turned to Kenya. "Ken, if you give a real apology, I'll buy you that new Birkin you wanted. The Himalayan one."

Kenya's eyes lit up. "Okay, okay! I'm sorry! I'm really, really sorry that my fun night out was so inconvenient for your family. There. Happy?" She looked at Cornell, expecting her prize.

Chloe felt the last bit of warmth in her heart turn to ice. Her father's life. Weighed against a designer handbag. And the handbag won.

"See, Chloe?" Cornell said, his voice a soothing murmur in her ear. "It's over. We can move on."

Chloe started to laugh. It was a hollow, broken sound. "Move on? You want me to move on from this?" She twisted in his grip to face him, her eyes blazing. "That thing," she spat, pointing a trembling finger at Kenya, "killed my father. And you're bribing her with a purse."

"Don't be dramatic," Cornell snapped, his patience finally gone. "And don't you dare talk about Kenya that way."

Chloe stared at him, at the man she had promised to love for the rest of her life. "He was my father, Cornell. My dad. And you're protecting his killer."

Cornell's jaw clenched. He leaned in close, his voice a low, menacing threat. "Your father is gone, Chloe. Nothing will bring him back. If you keep pushing this, you won't just be disrespecting me. You'll be disrespecting his memory. Do you really want his name dragged through the mud in a messy public spectacle? Let him rest in peace."

The threat was unmistakable. He wasn't just talking about public opinion. He was threatening to desecrate her father's legacy, the one thing she had left of him.

A cold fear, sharper than any grief, pierced through her. She looked into his eyes and saw that he meant it. He would do anything to protect his deal, to protect Kenya.

She stopped fighting. Her body went limp in his arms.

"Okay," she whispered, the word tasting like ash. "You're right. I'm sorry."

Cornell's expression softened instantly. He thought he had won. He released her, patting her shoulder as if she were a disobedient dog that had finally learned its lesson. "Good girl. That's my Chloe."

He thought he had broken her. He had no idea he had just handed her a weapon.

Chloe turned without another word and walked back up the stairs. She went into her bedroom and locked the door, the click of the bolt sounding like the cocking of a gun.

She ignored the throbbing in her head and the ache in her heart. She went to her closet, to the secret panel behind the shoe racks that her father had insisted on installing. Inside was a small safe.

Her fingers, still trembling slightly, entered the combination. The safe clicked open. Inside was a thick manila envelope. She pulled it out.

It was the post-nuptial agreement. She stared at her father' s neat, precise signature next to Cornell' s flamboyant scrawl. She remembered his words, a ghost's whisper in the silent room.

"Just in case, sweetheart. A man with that much power needs checks and balances. This ensures you'll always have your own power, your own freedom."

A single tear slid down her cheek and splashed onto the document. With a steady hand, she took a pen from her desk and signed her name on the final line, activating the dissolution of their marriage.

Everything Cornell had was built during their marriage. According to this document, she was entitled to half of it. Not a settlement. Half. Billions.

She hugged the document to her chest. "I will make them pay, Dad," she whispered to the empty room. "I promise."

Then she reached back into the safe and pulled out a second item. A slim burner phone. She powered it on. The screen lit up, showing a single folder on the home screen.

She opened it.

There, safe and secure in an encrypted cloud server her father had set up for her, was a perfect, high-definition copy of the video she had taken on the night of her father's death. It was the video Cornell thought he had erased forever.

Cornell had taught her that the law was for little people. That money and power could buy you out of anything.

Fine.

She would use his money to buy his destruction. She would use her power to ensure that Kenya Cline, Cornell Welch, and anyone else who had a hand in this would rot.

They wanted to see her broken? They would see her reborn. And they would rue the day they ever decided to cross Chloe Welch.