Chapter 3 - The Teterboro Runway ChaseThe black government SUV tore down the highway toward Teterboro Airport, lights flashing, the siren wailing a rhythmic warning through the afternoon traffic. In the passenger seat, Agent Vance gripped the dashboard as the driver took a sharp curve onto the private aviation tarmac.
"Dispatch says her Gulfstream G650 is already taxiing to the active runway," Vance shouted over the roar of the engine. "We have to cut her off before she hits clearance speed."
I sat in the back seat, my fingers drumming against my knee. Chloe. Out of everyone—every social climber, every backstabbing society matron in Manhattan—Chloe had been my maid of honor. She had held my veil, whispered words of comfort when Anthony stayed out until 4:00 AM, and all the while, she had been sleeping with my husband and helping him launder my family’s money through a shell company named after her late grandmother.
"Tell the pilot to cross the tarmac!" I ordered the driver. "Block her nose!"
The driver didn’t hesitate. The heavy SUV veered off the asphalt, tearing across the green grass of the airfield, kicking up clumps of sod and dust as it intercepted the gleaming white private jet just as its engines whined into takeoff thrust.
The jet’s pilot hit the brakes, the massive wings banking sharply to avoid a collision. The screech of rubber against concrete echoed across the tarmac.
"Federal agents! Cut the engines!" Vance roared into his bullhorn as he flung open the SUV door and drew his weapon.
Within seconds, airport security vehicles converged on the aircraft. The heavy metal airstair door of the Gulfstream hissed open, and a figure emerged in a tailored Burberry trench coat and oversized sunglasses: Chloe.
She shielded her eyes against the glare of the flashing police lights, her blonde hair whipping in the jet wash. When she saw me stepping out of the government SUV, her jaw dropped.
"Marissa?" she screamed over the deafening whine of the turbine engines. "What is the meaning of this? You’re ruining my life!"
I walked slowly across the tarmac, the cold wind stinging my cheeks, stopping ten feet away from the base of the stairs.
"Nice try, Chloe," I said, my voice cutting through the wind. "Did you really think you could pack forty million dollars in bearer bonds into a Louis Vuitton trunk and fly to London without anyone noticing?"
Chloe’s face contorted into a mask of pure venom. The polished, sweet-smiling best friend vanished instantly. "You stupid, arrogant bitch! You had everything—money, status, pedigree—and you just had to ruin it! Anthony never loved you! He told me you were cold, boring, and useless in bed! We were going to use your father's fortune to buy a villa in the South of France while you cried in your empty Manhattan apartment!"
Agent Miller stepped up behind her, grabbing her arm and snapping heavy steel handcuffs around her wrists with a crisp click.
"Chloe Vance, you are under arrest for conspiracy to commit wire fraud, money laundering, and interstate theft," Miller recited coldly. "Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law."
As they led her down the metal stairs, her designer heels clicking against the steps, Chloe spat toward my shoes. "You haven't won, Marissa. Anthony has a backup plan. You don't even know who holds the mortgage on your penthouse!"
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I watched her get shoved into the back of a police cruiser, feeling a chilling premonition settle over my bones.
Anthony had a backup plan.
