Chapter 7 - The Mistress Who Knew Too Much
Khloe Bennett was twenty-six when she learned that being chosen by a wealthy man did not make her safe.
She had grown up in Connecticut, the daughter of a school librarian and a traveling salesman who rarely came home.
Her mother worked two jobs.
Khloe learned early that money could make life easier.
Then she confused easier with better.
Silas promised her a penthouse.
A wedding.
A beautiful child.
A future in Dubai where nobody would care about the woman he'd left behind.
He told her I was dangerous.
Unstable.
A murderer.
He said he'd endured years of a loveless marriage and deserved happiness.
Khloe believed him.
Or wanted to.
That distinction eventually became impossible to ignore.
---
The first serious argument happened three days after Silas was suspended.
Khloe found him in his office surrounded by unopened mail.
"Your mother called," she said.
Silas didn't look up.
"What did she want?"
"She wants to know whether the accounts are frozen."
He slammed a folder shut.
"Tell her to stop calling."
Khloe flinched.
He looked at her.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"Then stop staring at me."
She touched her stomach.
"The doctor wants me to reduce stress."
Silas laughed bitterly.
"Then perhaps stop creating it."
Khloe stared.
For months, he'd called her his beautiful girl.
His future.
His miracle.
Now he sounded like a stranger.
---
Later that evening, Beatrice arrived.
She wore a cream cashmere coat and carried a handbag made from crocodile leather.
Khloe stood in the hallway while mother and son argued behind the study door.
"The transfer should have been completed before the board review," Beatrice hissed.
Silas lowered his voice.
"Judith Bellamy was there."
"That old woman should have been dealt with years ago."
Khloe froze.
Silas continued.
"Clara's case is being reopened."
Beatrice cursed.
"What about Evelyn?"
"Her attorney has more evidence."
"Then we need to make sure the witnesses stay quiet."
Khloe stepped backward.
The floorboard creaked.
Silence.
Then Beatrice called, "Khloe?"
She forced herself to smile.
"Yes?"
"Come in, darling."
Khloe entered.
Beatrice's expression was warm.
Too warm.
"How are you feeling?"
"Tired."
"Then go rest."
Khloe nodded.
But as she turned, she saw a folder on Silas's desk.
A photograph was clipped to the front.
Arthur Vance.
Beside it was a medical purchase invoice.
And a handwritten note:
Confirm Evelyn's prints.
Khloe's stomach tightened.
---
That night, Khloe waited until Silas fell asleep.
Then she opened the study.
She didn't take the folder.
She photographed several pages.
The invoice.
The handwritten note.
A payment authorization involving a medical supplier.
And an email from Beatrice discussing testimony in Arthur's death investigation.
Khloe's hands shook so badly that several photographs blurred.
She took them again.
Then returned everything exactly as she'd found it.
When she reached the bedroom, Silas was awake.
"Where were you?"
She froze.
"Bathroom."
He looked at her.
"For twenty minutes?"
She forced a laugh.
"I'm pregnant."
He stared for several seconds.
Then turned away.
Khloe lay beside him, listening to his breathing.
For the first time, she was afraid of the man whose child she carried.
---
The following morning, she called a criminal-defense attorney.
Not Silas's attorney.
Her own.
The lawyer listened carefully.
Then advised her not to confront Silas or conceal potentially relevant material.
Khloe agreed.
She was frightened.
But the photographs on her phone suggested something terrible.
The man who had told her his wife murdered her father might have helped manufacture the evidence.
---
Agent Monroe met Khloe through counsel two days later.
Khloe sat across from her with a glass of water.
Her attorney remained beside her.
Monroe asked whether she understood the seriousness of making false statements.
Khloe nodded.
Then placed her phone on the table.
"I think Silas lied about Evelyn."
Monroe studied her.
"What makes you say that?"
Khloe opened the photographs.
One by one.
Then she said something that made Monroe stop writing.
"His mother told him the witnesses needed to stay quiet."
"Which witnesses?"
"I don't know."
"Did she mention names?"
Khloe swallowed.
"Clara."
Monroe leaned forward.
"Clara Thorne?"
Khloe nodded.
"And Evelyn."
---
When Harrison told me Khloe had approached investigators, I stared.
"Khloe?"
"Yes."
"The pregnant woman who sat beside Silas at my sentencing?"
He nodded.
"Her."
I looked down.
For months, I had hated her.
Not because she had the power to destroy my life.
She didn't.
But because she had smiled beside the man who did.
Because she sat in my father's house.
Wore my jewelry.
And acted as though my conviction was an inconvenience delaying her happiness.
Now she was providing evidence.
I didn't know what to feel.
"Does that make her innocent?" I asked.
Harrison shook his head.
"No."
"Does it mean I should forgive her?"
"That's not a legal question."
I smiled sadly.
"Then the answer is no."
He nodded.
"For now."
I looked at him.
"No, Harrison. I'm allowed to decide that later too."
He smiled faintly.
"Yes, you are."
---
That night, Khloe left Silas.
She took one suitcase.
Her prenatal records.
Her identification.
And the small stuffed rabbit she'd bought for the baby.
She did not leave a dramatic note.
She simply went to her mother's house.
When Silas discovered she was gone, he called seventeen times.
She didn't answer.
Then Beatrice called.
"Darling, what have you done?"
Khloe stared at the screen.
For the first time, she didn't mistake Beatrice's sweetness for affection.
She blocked the number.
Then sat beside her mother and cried.
---
At Vance Holdings headquarters, Judith received another forensic report.
The medical supplier had preserved a record of the poison-related purchase.
The account used to pay for it was linked to a corporate card controlled by Silas.
The order had been deliberately routed through an account associated with my home computer.
The evidence was not yet the entire story.
But it was enough to create a devastating question.
May you like
If Silas and Beatrice had falsely accused me of poisoning my father, who had actually administered the fatal substance?
And why had my father's personal physician abruptly retired three days after the funeral?
