Chapter 5 - The Fragile Alliance
Three days later, I was sitting in Richard’s office. The room smelled of stale coffee and printer ink.
Richard slid a document across the desk. It was the lab report on the soup sample.
"The lab found traces of sodium fluoroacetate," Richard said, his expression grim. "That’s the active ingredient in Compound 108. It was in the broth, Clare. Not enough to kill you instantly—it was a micro-dose. If you had eaten that soup over the course of a week, you would have suffered a fatal cardiac arrest by Tuesday. It would have looked completely natural."
I closed my eyes, a cold sweat breaking out on my neck. Ethan had been feeding me poison. The man I had slept next to for four years, the man who had promised to love me in sickness and in health, had been slowly, methodically shutting down my heart.
"But there's more," Richard said, tapping a second file. "I tracked Ethan's movements. And Vanessa’s. They aren't as aligned as they want you to think."
"What do you mean?"
"Vanessa’s design firm is in far worse shape than we thought. She owes over $200,000 to local contractors, and her ex-husband's lawyers are suing her for hiding assets during their divorce. She was desperate. But Ethan? Ethan didn't tell her about the life insurance policy."
I opened my eyes. "What?"
"The policy was taken out by Ethan, but the signature for Vanessa as the beneficiary was also forged," Richard explained. "He used her name, but the contact email and bank account associated with the beneficiary payout belong to a dummy account in the Cayman Islands—one only Ethan has access to. He was setting Vanessa up to take the fall."
I stared at Richard, the puzzle pieces finally clicking into place.
"He was going to kill me," I whispered. "And then he was going to frame Vanessa for it. He’d get the two-million-dollar payout, the five-million-dollar merger windfall, and Vanessa would go to prison for my murder while he walked away a wealthy, grieving widower."
"Exactly," Richard said. "He leased the penthouse in her name to establish her motive—showing she was desperate for his financial support. He funneled money to her firm to make it look like she was blackmailing him. If you died of poisoning, the police would look at the mistress who stood to inherit two million dollars and who had a clear financial motive to get you out of the picture."
A slow, dark smile spread across my face.
Ethan was a monster. But he had made one fatal mistake: he had underestimated the fury of a woman betrayed, and he had assumed his partner in crime would remain loyal.
"Richard," I said, leaning forward. "Where is Vanessa right now?"
"She's at her design studio. She’s been there all morning, trying to figure out how she's going to pay back the $90,000 you demanded."
"Good," I said, standing up and grabbing my purse. "I'm going to go have a chat with my best friend."
Thirty minutes later, I walked into Aura Design Group. The boutique was empty of clients, the beautiful fabric swatches and high-end furniture looking cold and sterile under the track lighting.
Vanessa was sitting at her desk, her face buried in her hands. When she heard the door chime, she looked up, her eyes red and swollen. When she saw me, she flinched, pulling her chair back.
"Clare," she gasped. "What are you doing here? I’m working on the transfer, I swear. I just need more time—"
"Shut up, Vanessa," I said, walking over and tossing the lab report and the life insurance policy onto her desk.
She blinked, looking at the documents. "What is this?"
"That is a toxicology report proving Ethan was poisoning my food with agricultural toxin," I said calmly. "And that is a two-million-dollar life insurance policy on my life, listing you as the sole beneficiary."
Vanessa’s face went entirely white. "I... I didn't sign this. Clare, I swear to God, I didn't take out this policy! I would never—"
"I know you didn't," I said, sitting down in the chair opposite her. "Ethan forged your signature. Just like he forged mine. He set up a Cayman Islands account in your name to collect the payout. If I had died next week, the police would have found this policy, they would have found the poison in your apartment—which I’m sure he’s already planted—and you would have gone to prison for my murder while he took the money and ran."
Vanessa stared at the documents, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps. She looked like she was suffocating.
"He... he was going to frame me?" she whispered, her voice cracking. "But he said... he said he loved me. He said we were going to start a family."
"Ethan loves Ethan," I said, my voice gentle but firm. "He used me for my family's money, and he used you to take the fall for my death. We were both just chess pieces to him, Vanessa. But the game is over."
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She looked up at me, tears streaming down her face. "Clare, I am so sorry. I was so stupid. I was so greedy. What are we going to do?"
"We are going to give Ethan exactly what he wants," I said, leaning in. "He wants a tragedy. Let's give him one."
