Not love.
Not reconciliation.
They needed my bank account.
Two days later, Chloe barged into my office.
She pushed past my assistant and slammed the doors behind her.
The elegant socialite I had seen in photographs was gone.
Her hair was messy.
Her expensive coat was wrinkled.
Her hands shook.
“Where’s the money?”
I remained seated.
“Good morning, Chloe.”
“Stop playing games.”
She slapped one hand onto my desk.
“If you don’t transfer it today, I’ll destroy you publicly.”
I raised an eyebrow.
She continued.
“I’ll tell everyone you abandoned this family. I’ll tell the press you’re vindictive and unstable. Do you really think your board wants a CEO who lets her own sister go to prison?”
I looked at her for several seconds.
Then I said one name.
“Daniela Ruiz.”
Chloe froze.
I continued.
“Did she abandon you when you left her trapped in that car?”
