Chapter 4 - Playing the Part
The vibration buzzed like a hornet’s nest against the metal rack.
Marcus spun around instantly, his hand dropping toward his inner jacket pocket. ""Who’s there?""
Clara didn't flinch. In the span of a single heartbeat, the fear that had held her paralyzed evaporated, replaced by an astonishing, frigid clarity. She took a slow breath, smoothed down the hem of her grey tweed dress, and stepped casually into the halogen glare, her face fixed in an expression of meek, frantic confusion.
She held up the ringing phone, answering Julian’s call and putting it on speaker in one fluid motion.
""Clara!"" Julian’s arrogant voice boomed through the small speaker before Marcus could draw his weapon. ""Where the hell are you? My mother said you walked out of the house like a spoiled brat without cleaning up the mess I told you to fix!""
Clara let out a small, trembling sob, making Victoria’s eyes narrow in condescending recognition.
""Julian, please don't yell at me,"" Clara stammered, her voice shaking with pitch-perfect despair. ""I... I took the keys you gave me to go clean, but there were so many tags. The GPS pointed me to this industrial park. I think I used the wrong key... I was so scared after you threw the wine that I couldn't think straight. Now Victoria and Marcus are here and they’re scaring me!""
Marcus froze, his hand slowly relaxing inside his coat. Victoria let out an irritated sigh and marched forward, snatching the phone directly from Clara’s hand.
""Julian, it’s Victoria,"" the lawyer snapped, rolling her eyes toward the ceiling. ""Your little mouse got lost. She took the depot key instead of the residential fob. She’s standing here covered in your cheap merlot, blubbering like a child.""
On the other end of the line, Julian laughed—a cruel, dismissive sound that echoed off the damp brick walls. ""Typical. She doesn't have two brain cells to rub together. Victoria, give her the correct key and get her to the apartment. Let her spend the night scrubbing my mother’s porcelain. It’ll keep her out of our hair while we finalize the filings.""
""Consider it done,"" Victoria said, ending the call. She shoved the phone back into Clara’s hands, then grabbed Clara's coat off the chair and tossed it at her feet. ""Get out of here, Clara. Drive to the 5th Avenue apartment, wipe that pathetic stain off your face, and do as you're told. Speak a word of this place to anyone, and Julian will ensure you end up on the street with nothing.""
Clara dropped to her knees, picking up her coat and feigning a desperate sniffle. As she retrieved her bag, her fingers deftly slid the thumb drive containing the server backup logs into the lining of her boot.
""I'm sorry,"" Clara whispered, bowing her head submissively. ""I’m going right now.""
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She stumbled out the door into the foggy night, playing the broken wife until the heavy steel door clicked shut behind her. The moment she sat in her sedan, the trembling stopped. Her face hardened into stone.
She opened the file folder she had managed to tuck inside her coat. It wasn't just bank accounts. The top sheet was an unsealed life insurance policy taken out in her name, signed by Julian, containing an accidental death clause worth twenty million dollars—set to activate at midnight.
