Chapter 5 - Coffee with the MistressThe Peachtree Starbucks was bustling with morning commuters, corporate executives in crisp suits, and college students nursing iced lattes. I sat at a corner table near the floor-to-ceiling glass windows, wearing dark tortoiseshell sunglasses and sipping a black Americano.
At exactly ten o'clock, the front door chimed.
A tall, painfully thin woman with immaculate platinum-blonde hair, wearing a beige trench coat and designer sunglasses indoors, scanned the room frantically. Her eyes locked onto me.
Chloe Sterling walked over, her posture rigid, and dropped into the chair opposite mine without waiting for an invitation. Up close, I could see the heavy layers of concealer under her eyes and the frantic tremor in her manicured fingers.
“Savannah,” Chloe began, her voice dropping into a shaky, defensive register. “Look, I know how this looks. But Brandon told me you guys had an open understanding... that your marriage was just a formality for tax purposes, and that you were already separated—'’
I raised a single hand, palm out, cutting her off mid-sentence.
“Spare me the creative fiction, Chloe,” I said smoothly, not bothering to take off my sunglasses. “You don't need to audition for me. I’ve seen the wire transfer logs. I’ve read the escrow agreements. I know you signed the purchase agreement for the Alpharetta townhouse alongside him using my capital.”
Chloe flushed bright crimson, her lower lip trembling. “He... he told me the down payment came from his investment portfolio inheritance! He said his family had old money!”
“Old money?” I let out a sharp, genuine laugh. “Brandon’s mother thinks women belong in the kitchen scrubbing floors while the men eat steak. The only thing old in that family is their debt and their delusions of grandeur.”
Chloe slumped back against the wooden chair, her defenses completely crumbling. She pulled a tissue from her designer handbag and dabbed at the corner of her eye.
“What’s going to happen to the house?” she whispered miserably. “My name is on the preliminary mortgage paperwork. If the bank forecloses or if the court voids the title...”
“The house is tied up in a federal asset freeze pending a criminal forensic audit,” I said, leaning forward across the small table, my voice dropping into a quiet, icy register. “And since your name is on the title documents alongside a man who used embezzled funds to finance it, you’re currently facing joint liability for financial fraud.”
Chloe gasped, dropping her tissue. “Fraud?! I didn't know the money was stolen! He told me he was a successful portfolio manager!”
“Ignorance of embezzlement is not a legal defense when you’re listed as a co-beneficiary on a tainted real estate asset, Chloe,” I pointed out with clinical detachment. “However... I am feeling remarkably generous today.”
Chloe’s eyes snapped up, gleaming with desperate hope. “What... what do you mean?”
“Marcus, my attorney, is prepared to file a motion releasing your personal name and credit profile from the Alpharetta property encumbrance—if you sign a sworn affidavit detailing every single conversation you had with Brandon regarding my business accounts, complete with screenshots of your text message history.”
She stared at me, calculating the trade-off. Saving her own skin at the expense of the man who had promised her the world.
May you like
It took her less than five seconds to cave.
“Where do I sign?” she breathed.
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