Chapter 8 - The Mistress Comes Calling
By four o’clock, Sarah Vance had confirmed the impossible: the Blackthorn lien had been dissolved, the release filed electronically with the Cook County Recorder of Deeds, and Marcus Sterling had formally liquidated Nathan’s shadow account, rerouting 1.8 million dollars directly into the Caldwell primary account under Emma’s sole legal control.
Emma was in the kitchen of the Evanston house, watching the locksmith finish installing the heavy commercial deadbolt on the kitchen entrance, when a violent knock rattled the glass of the front door.
It wasn't Nathan.
Through the frosted glass, Emma could see the silhouette of a woman wrapped in an oversized fur coat, pacing frantically across the front porch.
Emma walked to the door, motioning for Mike the locksmith to stay within earshot. She pulled open the heavy oak door, leaving the heavy security chain engaged.
Standing on the porch, her blonde hair disheveled by the biting wind, her mascara smudged from crying or rage, was Chloe Harris.
The twenty-six-year-old marketing assistant who had laughed on the phone while Emma sat in a sterile hospital room waiting for biopsy results. The woman who had bragged about wearing Emma’s anniversary diamonds.
Now, Chloe looked neither glamorous nor triumphant. Her designer heels were scuffed, her designer bag looked rumpled, and her eyes were bloodshot.
"You need to fix this," Chloe said immediately, her voice trembling with an unstable mixture of arrogance and hysteria. "You need to fix what you did."
Emma looked at her through the four-inch gap in the door, her face completely expressionless. "I don't believe we have an appointment, Ms. Harris."
"Don't play dumb with me, you cold-hearted bitch!" Chloe screeched, stepping closer to the gap. "Nathan’s apartment lease was revoked today! His bank cards don't work! My landlord called me two hours ago—Nathan’s company was paying the lease on my luxury high-rise in the West Loop, and the corporate card bounced! I have twenty-four hours to vacate or they’re putting my belongings on the curb!"
Emma tilted her head, observing the girl with the clinical curiosity one might reserve for an insect trapped under glass.
"And why," Emma said softly, "is that my problem?"
"Because Nathan promised me!" Chloe cried, tears finally spilling over her mascara. "He told me he had millions set aside! He told me you were just an empty, bitter shell of a woman who was bleeding him dry! He said once he served you the papers, we would move to Florida, that I would never have to work again! And now he’s sitting in a greasy diner smelling like cheap bourbon, screaming at his phone, telling me he has nothing! He doesn't even have enough cash to pay for his rental car!"
"Then it sounds like you made a terrible investment, Chloe," Emma replied calmly.
"I’m pregnant!" Chloe shrieked into the cold wind.
The silence that followed was suffocating. The wind rustled through the oak trees in the yard. Behind Emma, Mike the locksmith froze, looking awkwardly at the floor.
Emma didn't flinch. She didn't gasp. She simply looked into Chloe's wild, terrified eyes.
"Are you?" Emma asked, her voice dropping into a register so cold it cut through the autumn air like a blade.
Chloe hesitated, her breath catching in her throat, a flicker of uncertainty flashing across her eyes before she doubled down. "Yes! I am! With his child! So you can't just leave him with nothing! You can't take all the money and leave his child on the street!"
Emma slowly closed the door, unlatched the heavy security chain, and swung the door wide open.
Chloe stepped back, startled by the sudden lack of barrier.
Emma stepped forward onto the porch, towering over the younger woman.
"Three weeks ago," Emma said, each word landing like an iron hammer, "I went through Nathan’s personal medical records in our upstairs safe while filing our health insurance renewals. Nathan had a vasectomy eleven years ago, Chloe. After my second miscarriage, we decided we would not try again. He never had it reversed. He confirmed it with his urologist in Lincoln Park six months ago."
Chloe’s mouth fell open. The color drained from her face, leaving her completely speechless.
"So," Emma continued, her voice razor-sharp, "if you are carrying a child, you had better track down whoever else you were sleeping with while Nathan was buying you cheap champagne. Because neither Nathan nor I owe you a single copper penny."
Chloe took two stumbling steps backward down the porch stairs, clutching her designer coat tightly around her shoulders as if trying to shield herself from the sheer humiliation.
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"Get off my property," Emma whispered. "If your vehicle is still parked on this curb in two minutes, I will have the Evanston police impound it for trespassing. Move."
Chloe turned and ran, her heels clattering against the concrete driveway, sobbing into the cold November twilight.
