We will have agents waiting at the gate in Chicago. Secure your daughter and stay calm.
I logged out of the cloud drive, cleared my phone’s recent activity, locked the black box, and slid it back beneath the bed frame.
When Julian emerged from the bathroom ten minutes later, wrapped in a white plush hotel robe, I was standing beside the window, sipping iced tea while looking out at the sunset over the Pacific.
“Ready for dinner?” he asked, combing his hair back.
“Almost,” I turned around, looking at him with calm, unshakeable composure. “I actually told Jim I’d meet him down in the lobby first. I want to talk to him about his new apartment.”
Julian’s eyes flicked toward the bed frame for a split second.
“Sure. Take your time, babe.”
I walked out of the suite, rode the elevator down to the main lobby, and found Jim sitting alone on a stone lounge chair near the infinity pool, staring blankly into a tumbler of whiskey.
I sat directly across from him.
“Jim,” I said softly.
He jumped slightly, spilling several drops of his drink onto his polo shirt.
“Chloe! Hey. Where’s Lily?”
“She’s with the resort daycare group doing the evening bonfire,” I said.
Then I leaned forward, rested my elbows on my knees, and lowered my voice to an icy whisper.
“And Julian is upstairs in the shower.”
Jim forced a weak laugh.
“Great. He’s… he’s been really helpful this trip, Chloe—”
“I know about the black box under the bed, Jim.”
Jim went completely still.
The glass in his hand trembled so violently that the ice cubes clinked against the crystal.
“Ch-Chloe… what are you talking about?” he stammered, his face turning ghostly pale beneath his sunburn.
“I know about the shell accounts,” I said, my voice cutting through his panic like a scalpel. “I know about the bills of lading you’ve been signing at the port. I know Julian set you up as the primary corporate officer so when the feds came down, he could walk away clean while you spent twenty years in a federal penitentiary.”
