Jim dropped his head into his hands, his shoulders shaking as he began to weep silently.
“He told me it was just a tax shelter, Chloe!” Jim sobbed quietly, his voice raw with terror. “He said everyone at the port does it! He promised me fifty thousand dollars to clear my debts… then last month, he told me if I stopped signing the manifest forms, he’d report me for fraud himself! I’m trapped! I’m so sorry, Chloe… I’m so sorry…”
I reached forward and grabbed my brother’s wrists, forcing him to meet my eyes.
“Listen to me very carefully, Jim,” I commanded, my eyes fierce. “You are my brother, and I am not going to let him destroy your life. But you have to do exactly what I tell you for the next eighteen hours.”
Jim wiped his eyes frantically and nodded.
“Anything. Tell me what to do.”
“Tonight at dinner, you act normal. You smile, you drink, you pretend you’re ready to sign whatever papers he hands you tomorrow.”
“And then?” I looked toward the resort’s main entrance, where the evening streetlights were beginning to glow.
“And tomorrow afternoon, when our plane lands in Chicago… you stand behind me, and you watch Julian’s world come ending down.”
FINAL PART
The four-hour flight back to O’Hare International Airport felt like the longest of my life.
Julian sat beside me in first class, drinking sparkling wine, reading a financial magazine, and occasionally leaning over to pat Lily’s head while she colored in her activity book.
He was in high spirits, convinced he had successfully maneuvered Jim into signing the final offshore corporate indemnification agreements during breakfast that morning.
Jim sat three rows behind us with his head lowered, pretending to sleep.
When the plane finally touched down on the tarmac in Chicago, the cabin chime sounded and passengers began standing to retrieve their bags from the overhead compartments.
Julian pulled down his designer leather briefcase and smiled at me.
“Great trip, wasn’t it, babe? We should really make Cabo an annual family thing.”
