I1 was eight months pregnant with our miracle baby when my husband brought his 22-year-old mistress to our baby shower. When I demanded they leave, he punched me square in the stomach, sending me crashing into the gift table. “She’s carrying the real heir, you barren trash,” he sneered, as his wealthy parents actually clapped.

The private interrogation room at the Federal Plaza in Lower Manhattan was quiet, illuminated only by recessed fluorescent lights and the hum of a digital recording device sitting in the middle of a polished oak table.

Through the one-way mirror on the wall, I stood quietly beside Agent Marcus Thorne, watching the woman sitting inside.

Chloe Bennett looked nothing like the glamorously malicious young woman who had paraded into my baby shower three days ago in a head-turning designer dress. She was wearing a faded grey sweatshirt provided by the detention facility, her signature blonde hair tied back in an unkempt ponytail, her mascara running down her splotchy cheeks.

“She’s terrified,” Agent Thorne observed quietly, keeping his arms crossed over his chest. “When we showed her the wiretap recordings of Arthur Vance discussing how he planned to pay her off and send her to Europe once the divorce went through, she broke instantly.”

“Did she tell you about the corporate espionage?” I asked, keeping my voice steady as I watched her through the glass.

“Everything,” Thorne replied, pulling a printed transcript from his folder. “Chloe wasn't just Julian’s mistress, Clara. She was recruited eighteen months ago by Richard Sterling—Arthur Vance’s lead defense attorney. Arthur was worried that Julian was becoming unstable and loose-lipped. He paid Chloe fifty thousand dollars up front to monitor Julian’s phone, track his communications, and make sure Julian didn't do anything stupid that could alert federal regulators to the shell companies.”

I felt a cold sensation settle in the pit of my stomach. The level of sociopathic manipulation within the Vance family was truly bottomless. Arthur Vance had hired a fake mistress to spy on his own son, while Julian believed he was playing the mastermind by replacing his wife. They were all predators eating each other in the dark.

“I want to speak with her,” I said.

Thorne glanced at me, slightly surprised. “You don't have to do that, Clara. Her confession is already legally binding. We have enough to indict Sterling for obstruction and witness tampering.”

“I know,” I said, turning my eyes to Thorne. “But I want her to look me in the eye when she says it.”

Thorne hesitated for a moment, then nodded, stepping over to unlock the door to the interrogation room.

The heavy door creaked open, and Chloe’s head snapped up. When her eyes landed on me, she flinched, pulling her arms tightly around her chest as if expecting a physical blow.

I walked in slowly, pulling out the steel chair directly across from her, and sat down.

“Clara…” Chloe choked out, her voice raspy from hours of crying. “Look, I… I swear I didn't know he was going to push you! I swear! I never wanted anyone to get hurt!”

“Sit down, Chloe,” I said calmly, even though she was already sitting. My voice had an authority that made her instantly freeze.

“I was broke, Clara!” Chloe sobbed, burying her face in her trembling hands. “My family had nothing, I had student loans, I was working three jobs as a temp at Vance Enterprises! Then Mr. Vance—Arthur—he called me into his office one day. He told me if I made Julian fall in love with me and kept him away from you, he would buy me an apartment in Soho and pay off all my debts! He said you were a dangerous woman who was trying to ruin his family!”

“And the fake pregnancy?” I asked, my tone unreadable.

Chloe swallowed hard, looking down at the scarred surface of the table. “That was Julian’s idea at first, but Arthur endorsed it. Julian wanted a reason to publicly humiliate you at the shower so he could file for an emergency fault-based divorce under 'cruelty and emotional instability.' They wanted to destroy your credibility in court before you could ever go to the police with the financial ledgers.”

I looked at the woman sitting across from me. She was twenty-two years old—young, greedy, foolish, and entirely consumed by the glitter of a lifestyle she didn't understand. She had traded her integrity for the illusion of wealth, only to end up sitting in a cold federal holding cell facing felony conspiracy charges.

“You thought you were going to be the new Mrs. Vance,” I said quietly. “You thought you were replacing me.”

“I was an idiot!” Chloe cried out, tears spilling over her eyelashes. “Julian didn't love me! He treated me like a trophy! He used to laugh about you behind your back, Clara, but whenever he was drunk, he was terrified of you! He used to tell me that you were too smart, that you looked through him like he was made of glass!”

I remained silent, letting her words hang in the heavy air between us.

“Please, Clara,” Chloe begged, reaching her hands across the table, though she stopped short of touching me. “Tell the prosecutor I cooperated! I’ll testify against Arthur! I’ll testify against Julian! I’ll tell the judge that Julian planned the whole scene at the shower! Just please don't let them send me to prison!”

I looked down at her outstretched hands, then met her bloodshot eyes.

“I don't care about your prison sentence, Chloe,” I said softly. “That is between you, the judge, and your conscience. But you are going to take the witness stand on Monday morning during Arthur’s bail revocation hearing. And you are going to read every single page of your confession out loud to the court.”

“I will! I’ll do whatever you want!” Chloe agreed frantically, nodding her head repeatedly.

I stood up, smoothing the front of my jacket.

“You wanted the Vance family’s lifestyle, Chloe,” I said as I reached the doorway, looking back over my shoulder at her. “Now you get to share their fate.”

I stepped out into the corridor, leaving the door open behind me. Agent Thorne was waiting outside, holding a thick folder containing the finalized asset seizure manifests.

“The bankruptcy court just set the date for the public liquidation of Vance Enterprises’ holdings,” Thorne said as we walked toward the elevator. “Two weeks from today. Everything from their corporate headquarters on Wall Street to the estate in the Hamptons is going under the hammer.”

“Good,” I said, pushing the button for the ground floor. “Because I’ve already set up the holding company to buy it all.”