Chapter 7 - Coffee with the SerpentThe café on 5th Street was bright, bustling, and smelled of roasted espresso and sweet pastries.
Claire was already sitting at a corner table near the window when I walked in at 1:00 PM. She wore oversized dark sunglasses, a beige trench coat, and was anxiously stirring her latte with a wooden stick, her knuckles white.
When she saw me approach, she practically jumped out of her chair.
"Emily!" she gasped, trying to force a warm smile. "Thank you so much for coming."
I sat down across from her, carefully unbuttoning my green wool maternity coat—the very same coat she had hidden behind in my closet forty-eight hours ago.
"How are you feeling today, Claire?" I asked, my voice smooth and pleasant. "Did your stomach settle down after dinner last night?"
Claire took off her sunglasses, revealing red, swollen eyes. "Em... I have to be honest with you. Last night was... awful. I felt so terrible about spilling the wine."
"Oh, forget about the wine, Claire," I waved my hand dismissively. "It's just a tablecloth. Fabric can be washed. Though some stains... well, some stains never really come out, do they?"
Claire froze, her hand stopping mid-air. She stared at me, trying desperately to read my expression.
"Emily..." she whispered, her voice cracking. "What... what are you saying?"
I reached into my leather tote bag, pulled out a clear Ziploc bag, and set it gently on the wooden table right between her latte and her pastry.
Inside the Ziploc bag lay her champagne lace camisole, complete with the tiny blue glass charm.
Claire's face drained of every single drop of blood. She looked at the bag, then looked up at me, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.
"You... you found it," she choked out.
"I didn't just find it, Claire," I said, leaning forward, resting my elbows on the table. "I found you hiding behind my maternity coats while I was coming home from listening to my daughter's heartbeat. The daughter you swore to protect as her godmother."
Claire covered her face with both hands, letting out a sharp, choked sob. "Emily... please... oh God, please listen to me! It was a mistake! Damon seduced me! He told me you two were getting a divorce! He told me you didn't love him anymore!"
I let out a soft, bitter laugh. "Damon seduced you? For eighteen months, Claire? In my bed? In hotels? While helping him steal eight hundred thousand dollars from your own fiancé?"
Claire stopped sobbing instantly. She pulled her hands away from her face, her eyes wide with absolute horror. "How... how do you know about the money?"
"I know everything, Claire," I said, my voice dropping into a razor-sharp whisper. "I know about the Nevis account. I know about the offshore transfers. And I know that you helped him forge Owen's digital signature on the secondary wire authorizations."
"No! No, I didn't!" Claire lied frantically, looking around the café to see if anyone was watching us. "Damon did all of that! I didn't know what he was signing!"
"Save your lies for court, Claire," I said. "Because tomorrow afternoon at 4:00 PM, Owen is hosting an emergency meeting at his firm. And you are going to be there."
"Emily, please!" Claire begged, reaching across the table to grab my hand. I pulled my hand back as if touching a hot stove. "Don't tell Owen! If Owen finds out, he'll cancel the wedding! He'll ruin my family's reputation! He'll throw me out of our apartment!"
"You should have thought about your apartment before you laid in my bed," I said coldly.
I pulled out my phone, clicked open a video file, and turned the screen toward her.
It was a screen recording of her text thread with Damon, highlighting the message where she explicitly wrote: "Owen asked about the audit. I told him a lie. Make sure the Nevis transfer clears before he checks the balance."
Claire stared at the glowing screen, her entire body trembling violently.
"If you don't show up to Owen's office tomorrow at four," I told her, "this video, along with thirty pages of financial wire receipts, gets delivered directly to Owen's parents and your wedding venue coordinator by five o'clock."
Claire sank back into her chair, completely broken, tears streaming down her face. "You're a monster, Emily."
I stood up, buttoning my green maternity coat, looking down at her with pure, unadulterated coldness.
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"No, Claire," I said, picking up my purse. "I'm a mother protecting her child's future. You're just a thief who got caught."
I turned on my heel and walked out of the café into the bright afternoon sun, leaving my former best friend sobbing alone at the corner table.
