Chapter 7 - A Stranger at the Door
It was a rainy Tuesday evening when the past decided to claw its way back to my doorstep.
I was working late in my office, reviewing architectural blueprints for the new Chicago facility, when a soft knock echoed on my frosted glass door.
"Nina, I told you I'm finishing up and heading home—" I began, looking up.
The door slowly creaked open.
It wasn't Nina.
It was a woman I had only ever seen in high-resolution detective photos and frozen frame-grabs from security footage: Chloe Vance.
Except the glamorous, champagne-sipping young woman from Hawaii was entirely gone. Her clothes were damp and frayed, her hair plastered to her face, and her eyes hollow with desperation.
"Hello, Clarissa," Chloe whispered, her voice cracking.
I didn't panic. I didn't reach for the phone. I slowly set my pen down, leaned back in my ergonomic leather chair, and crossed my arms, staring at her with cold curiosity.
"You've got a lot of nerve showing your face here, Chloe," I said calmly. "Did Julian send you? Or did you finally realize that the man you stole doesn't have a penny left to his name?"
Chloe stumbled forward, collapsing into the visitor chair opposite my desk, burying her face in her hands as silent, wracking sobs shook her frame.
"He’s gone mad, Clarissa," Chloe wept. "He lost his job at the warehouse last week. He spends every single night drinking cheap whiskey, holding that stupid white urn, screaming at the walls, blaming everyone but himself. And... and he knows I have something of his."
I raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And what would that be?"
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Chloe slowly reached into her oversized coat pocket and pulled out a heavy, leather-bound journal—the one missing piece from Evelyn’s velvet box that the private investigator hadn't been able to locate.
"He didn't just embezzle from his mother," Chloe whispered, trembling as she slid the journal across my desk. "Julian hid something else. Something much bigger. And if you don't help me... he’s going to kill me."
