Chapter 4 - The Poisoned Bait
Over the next four days, Ethan, Vanessa, and Chloe moved like predators who believed their prey was already digested.
Ethan used the fraudulent assumption of ownership over the Oakwood Hills penthouse to secure a temporary $500,000 credit line from a high-risk private lender, immediately spending $80,000 on a brand-new Porsche 911, $20,000 on a diamond watch for himself, and $15,000 on a designer handbag for Chloe.
My private intelligence team tracked every single purchase, every text message, and every bank transfer.
On Wednesday afternoon, I met Ethan’s mother, Vanessa, at an upscale tea room in downtown Chicago. She had invited me under the guise of "welcoming me into the family," but I knew the real agenda: she wanted to assess how easily I could be manipulated into handing over control of my personal bank accounts.
"Emma, dear," Vanessa said, taking a delicate bite of a cucumber sandwich. "Ethan told me your father is hosting a party on Friday at the Grand Plaza. Frankly, I'm worried."
"Worried, Mother?" I asked, looking appropriately meek.
"Well, yes. A place like the Grand Plaza is meant for elite society. Ethan's business partners will be there. If your father presents himself like a blue-collar worker, it could embarrass Ethan professionally. You do understand that, don't you?"
"My father just wants to make sure I'm taken care of," I said softly, touching the cheap cubic zirconia ring Ethan had given me as an engagement band (while keeping the real diamond money for his debts).
"Taking care of you is Ethan's job now," Vanessa said sharply, leaning across the table. "In fact, Ethan mentioned that you still hold a separate checking account from before the wedding. In a proper, respectable marriage, all assets should be consolidated into the husband's primary account. It shows trust."
"Oh, but that account only has my small monthly salary in it," I lied seamlessly.
Vanessa’s eyes flashed with annoyance. "Even so. It’s the principle. I expect you to transfer those funds to Ethan by tomorrow. We don't tolerate secrets in the Vance family."
"I understand," I said, lowering my eyes to hide the cold laughter dancing inside them. "I'll do whatever Ethan thinks is best."
While Vanessa was busy lecturing me on my duty as a submissive wife, my phone vibrated in my lap. It was a message from Marcus:
Marcus: We just intercepted a recording of Ethan talking to his debt collector. He promised to pay off his entire $600k balance on Saturday morning using the proceeds from the liquid sale of the Oakwood penthouse. He has no idea the title is locked under a Carter corporate lien.
Emma: Let him dig the hole deeper. Is the media team ready for Friday?
Marcus: The city's top financial journalists, socialites, and representatives from the District Attorney’s white-collar crime division have all accepted invitations from your father. They think they are attending the grand unveiling of Apex Development's newest international partner.
Emma: Perfect. They won't be disappointed.
That evening, when I returned to our modest rented apartment, Ethan was sitting on the sofa with a glass of scotch, reviewing his speech for Friday night.
May you like
"Emma," he said without looking up. "Make sure you wear something simple on Friday. Nothing too flashy. I don't want you drawing attention away from the investors I'm bringing."
"Of course, Ethan," I said sweetly, walking past him into the bedroom. "I'll make sure I dress exactly as I deserve."
