Chapter 3 - The Golden Cage
The next morning, Ethan woke up in high spirits. He brought me coffee in bed, kissed my forehead, and laid a set of legal papers on the nightstand beside my cup.
"Good morning, Mrs. Vance," he purred, wrapping his arms around my shoulders from behind. "I had my family lawyer draft these authorization forms while we were planning the wedding. It just gives me power of attorney over the property title so I can handle the property tax filings and utility setups for our new house."
I looked at the documents. It was a complete transfer deed, assigning ninety percent ownership of the Chicago skyline property to a private holding firm controlled by Ethan and Vanessa.
"Oh, Ethan," I sighed, leaning my head against his chest, feeling his steady, deceitful heartbeat. "Is it really necessary to do this today? We're supposed to be packing for St. Barts."
"It'll only take a second, honey," he urged gently, placing a expensive gold pen into my hand. "Just sign right here at the bottom. Then you won't have to stress about real estate lawyers ever again."
I picked up the pen, held it over the signature line for five agonizing seconds, and then intentionally dropped it onto the white duvet, leaving a dark blotch of ink on the fabric.
"Oh, darn it!" I cried softly, putting my hands to my face. "Look what I did! I'm so clumsy today. My hands are shaking."
Ethan’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second, a dark flicker of annoyance passing through his eyes before he quickly masked it. "It's okay, babe. I can print another copy."
"No, let's do it after we get back from our trip," I said, getting out of bed and walking toward the bathroom. "Besides, I wanted to invite your mother over to the house today to see the floor plan before we leave."
"Vanessa?" Ethan hesitated. "Why?"
"Well, she's my mother-in-law now," I turned and smiled at him sweetly. "I want her to feel included. In fact, why don't we invite her friend Chloe, too? You mentioned Chloe was helping your mother with her interior design business, right?"
Ethan went rigid. His breath hitched in his throat. "Chloe? You... you know about Chloe?"
"Vanessa mentioned her last night at the reception," I lied effortlessly, watching the cold sweat form on his neck. "She said Chloe has exquisite taste in baby nurseries. I thought she could give us some ideas for our future home."
Ethan swallowed hard, forcing a tight, nervous laugh. "Right... right! Interior design. Great idea, honey."
Two hours later, we met Vanessa and Chloe at an upscale cafe overlooking Michigan Avenue. Chloe was twenty-five, dressed in head-to-toe designer clothes paid for with Ethan’s stolen money, carrying a subtle bump beneath her silk blouse.
"Emma, dear!" Vanessa gushed, kissing both my cheeks with theatrical affection. "You look so refreshed! Isn't St. Barts going to be wonderful?"
"It will be," I said, taking my seat. "Although Ethan and I were just discussing the house financing."
Chloe paused, her coffee cup halfway to her lips. "The house financing?"
"Yes," I said, looking directly at Chloe's stomach. "Ethan was telling me how eager he is to finalize the ownership paperwork. But my bank called this morning with an interesting update."
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Vanessa narrowed her eyes. "What kind of update?"
"They told me that the four-million-dollar wire transfer used to purchase the property didn't originate from Ethan’s account after all," I said calmly, taking a delicate bite of my croissant. "It came from an offshore institutional trust held by Apex Development."
