Chapter 9 - Chloe’s Desperation
By Monday of the following week, the academic and legal siege around my sister Chloe had reached a state of critical collapse. The university’s disciplinary committee had convened without my corporate guaranty to protect her; presented with the unredacted bank records showing her systematic theft of fifty thousand dollars from the campus charity fund, the board voted unanimously for immediate, permanent expulsion.
Worse still, the university’s general counsel had formally handed the investigative dossier over to the Suffolk County District Attorney’s Office. Chloe was no longer just an expelled college student; she was facing an imminent felony indictment for grand larceny, carrying a potential sentence of up to five years in a state correctional facility.
At 8:30 AM on Monday, I walked into the marble lobby of my Tribeca residential tower to head to the office. As the elevator doors slid open, a figure stepped out from the shadows near the concierge desk and lunged toward me.
It was Chloe.
She looked unrecognizable from the smug, giggling girl who had hidden behind her wineglass at Easter dinner. Her designer coat was wrinkled, her face was pale and blotchy from days of weeping, and her hair was tied back in a messy knot. She had taken a red-eye bus from Boston, waiting in my lobby since dawn because my security desk had standing orders to deny her access to my penthouse floor.
"Julian!" she sobbed, throwing herself toward me before my private security detail stepped in to physically block her path, holding her back by her arms. "Julian, please! You have to talk to me! Tell them to let me go!"
I signaled to the guards with a minor flick of my hand. They stepped back an inch, keeping themselves between us, but allowing her to speak.
"What do you want, Chloe?" I asked, my voice as cold as the polished marble beneath our feet.
"They expelled me, Julian!" she cried, tears streaming down her face as she reached out toward my sleeve, though she didn't dare touch me. "The university kicked me out! And the police came to my apartment in Cambridge yesterday! They served me with a target letter from the District Attorney! They’re going to arrest me for grand larceny! They’re going to put me in jail!"
"They are going to arrest you because you stole fifty thousand dollars from a charity designed to buy coats and books for poor children so you could buy handbags," I replied smoothly. "That is how the criminal justice system operates when you commit a felony."
"But you paid them back!" she wailed, falling to her knees on the lobby floor, causing the morning commuters and high-end residents to stop and stare at the spectacle. "You signed the agreement! You promised the dean it was handled! Why did you take the sponsorship away?! I’m your little sister!"
"You were my little sister when I drove to Boston at two in the morning to keep you out of handcuffs fourteen months ago," I said, looking down at her kneeling figure without a shred of pity. "You were my little sister when I paid off your credit cards and funded your apartment. But on Easter Sunday, when Lucas called me a parasite and a fraud, you giggles and told the room I couldn't help being a martyr."
Chloe gasped, covering her mouth with her hands as the exact memory of her cruelty was thrown back into her face. "I was just joking! I didn't mean it! Lucas put me up to it! Please, Julian, I’m twenty-one years old! I can't go to prison! I’ll do anything! I’ll apologize! I’ll get a job and pay you back every cent! Just call the District Attorney and tell them you’re renewing the corporate bond!"
I reached into the inner pocket of my tailored suit coat, pulled out a sleek, black leather cardholder, and extracted a single white business card. I stepped forward and dropped the card onto the marble floor directly in front of her kneeling knees.
"What is this?" she whispered, looking down at the paper.
May you like
"That is the name and telephone number of Harold Vance—no relation—a reputable, aggressive public defender in Boston who handles first-time white-collar felony defense," I stated clearly. "I suggest you call him today. If you plead guilty and show remorse, he might be able to negotiate a plea bargain for five years of felony probation and five hundred hours of community service instead of jail time."
I stepped around her kneeling form toward the revolving glass exit doors. "Do not come to my home or my office again, Chloe. If you do, my security team will press charges for trespassing. Good luck in court."
