Chapter 6 - The Plot Thickens
I frowned at the screen, staring at the message. “That’s strange.”
“What is?” Derek asked, peering over my shoulder.
“A text from an unknown number telling me to go to the exit lobby because of something involving my sister.” I typed back a quick reply asking who it was, but the status immediately showed Message Read, followed by a typing indicator that stopped abruptly.
“Could be a trap set by Chloe’s lawyer or one of her friends,” Derek warned, his protective instincts instantly flaring up. “Let’s not go alone.”
“I’m a doctor at this hospital, Derek. I carry hospital ID and a panic button on my badge,” I said, though I grabbed my white coat and adjusted it. “But let’s go check it out.”
We took the stairwell down to the main ground-floor exit lobby. The cavernous glass-and-steel atrium was mostly empty at this hour, save for a few night-shift visitors and security guards chatting near the gift shop.
We scanned the area. No one was standing near the revolving doors except an elderly couple waiting for a taxi.
“False alarm?” Derek muttered, looking around.
“Wait,” I said, pointing toward a pillar near the elevators.
Lying on a plastic bench was a bulky, cream-colored leather handbag. It looked identical to the designer bag Chloe had been clutching when she arrived at the hospital earlier.
Derek approached cautiously, using the edge of his pen to flip the flap open. Inside were a wallet, a thick stack of printed bank statements, and a legal document with a bright red legal seal.
“Is that Chloe’s bag?” I asked, stepping closer.
“Looks like it,” Derek said, pulling out the bank statements. He flipped through the pages, and his eyes widened in disbelief. “Clara... you need to look at this.”
I leaned in. The statements were from an offshore Swiss bank account in Chloe’s name, showing multiple incoming wire transfers over the past twelve months. The total balance was staggering—nearly two million dollars.
“Where did she get two million dollars?” I whispered.
“Look at the sender names on the wire transfers,” Derek said, tracing his finger down the micro-print. “They aren't from the Boston venture capitalist. They’re from... corporate accounts tied to Hayes Global Holdings and... Sterling Pharmaceuticals.”
My breath hitched. Sterling Pharmaceuticals was the massive conglomerate owned by Richard Sterling—a notorious local billionaire known for aggressive corporate takeovers and shady pharmaceutical patents.
“Why would a billionaire’s corporate slush fund be paying Chloe millions of dollars?” I asked, my mind racing.
“Because she wasn't just running a petty paternity scam,” a cold, smooth voice echoed from behind the pillars.
We both spun around.
A tall man in a tailored charcoal suit stepped out from the shadows near the corridor. He looked to be in his late forties, with silver-streaked hair, sharp, predatory eyes, and an aura of absolute, untouchable authority. He wasn't wearing a hospital badge. He looked like he owned the entire building.
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“Who are you?” Derek demanded, stepping defensively in front of me.
The man offered a polite, chilling smile. “My name is Alexander Vance. And I believe my late father’s former business associates have been using your brilliant, sociopathic little friend Chloe as a pawn in a much larger game.”
