Chapter 12
Chloe sat down at the dining table with her fresh latte. Her phone lit up with a soft buzz.
A text from Austin: [Honey, things on the West Coast are getting complicated. I might not make it back to New York until next week. Why don't you hang out with your friends this weekend, or book a spa day and relax?]
Chloe tapped out a reply calibrated to just the right note of disappointment: [You're going to be gone that long?]
Austin answered quickly: [What's this? Miss me?]
She kept playing the clingy wife, typing: [You've been flying back and forth nonstop lately. We haven't had a proper meal together in ages.]
They traded a few more messages. Austin seemed to eat up her pining, and finally promised: [I'll make it up to you when I'm back. Didn't you say you wanted to go camping in the Hudson Valley? I'll have my assistant set it all up. We'll go next week.]
Chloe sent back an excited emoji, and that closed the conversation.
She set the phone down, took a sip of coffee, and looked out at the New York skyline in the early evening, her face unreadable.
The second she exited the chat with Austin, the phone buzzed again.
That familiar profile photo popped up in her notifications, dark and backlit as always.
Chloe hesitated a beat, then tapped it open.
Scott: [Come over tomorrow night?]
Chloe: [Busy.]
The reply came back almost the instant hers sent.
Scott: [Isn't that husband of yours, the one who just surprised you with a gift, still three thousand miles away?]
Chloe stared at the line, and his usual tone, amused and mocking, played in her head on its own.
No guessing required. He'd definitely seen the post she'd put up earlier.
Chloe had zero patience for this pointless back-and-forth. She was about to close the chat when a new message from Scott popped up.
It said: [I miss you.]
Chloe's mouth twitched in a cold little scoff as she typed back fast: [Save it. Don't wear yourself out.]
Scott: [Don't worry, energy to spare. Some people, though, go weak in the knees just getting the invite.]
Chloe: [Get lost.]
Scott: [You know how much I love it when you curse at me. You saying that on purpose to turn me on?]
Chloe: [You're insane.]
Her patience for the game was gone. She sent that last message, killed the screen, flipped the phone face-down on the table, and drank from her now lukewarm coffee.
Chloe made herself settle down and turned her attention back to the divorce plan.
Her current problem was a lack of evidence.
Even if she traced certain money flows, that alone would hardly stand as direct proof of Austin's cheating in a divorce settlement.
To gain the upper hand, she needed visual evidence with real impact, clear photos or footage. And that was exactly the hardest thing to get.
At her meeting with Emilia tomorrow, they needed to talk it through properly and figure out where to start, how to break this deadlock.
A crisp doorbell chime cut through Chloe's thoughts.
She frowned on reflex and glanced at the wall clock. Not even six yet.
Who'd show up uninvited at this hour?
Puzzled, she walked to the foyer and checked the smart display on the door.
When Scott's face came into sharp focus on the screen, her breath caught and she nearly gasped out loud.
As if he could see straight through the door, Scott raised his voice. "You've got a live camera on your front door, right? If I stand out here long enough to trip the alert, the notification goes straight to your husband's phone."
Chloe took a deep breath, swallowed her irritation, and turned the handle.
"What is wrong with—"
"Since you're busy tomorrow," Scott cut in, like it was the most natural thing in the world, "we'll do tonight instead."
Chloe had hit her limit. "Is that the only thing your brain can think about?"
Scott didn't look the least bit embarrassed. If anything, he put on an innocent face. "Weren't you the one who seduced me first?"
"Enough. Let go of me first." Chloe twisted out of his arm. "I need to deal with the camera."
Scott didn't leave. He followed her into the little open study off the main room.
Chloe sat down at the computer, logged into the home security system, found the porch footage from a few minutes ago, and deleted it for good.
While she was at it, a new message notification slid down from the top of her phone screen.
She tapped it on reflex, and it opened straight into her chat with Randy.
Randy had sent several photos, with one line underneath: [Seeing is believing, isn't it? Time to wake up.]
Expressionless, Chloe typed back: [I trust my husband. We're very happy.]
The moment the message went through, she heard the faintest scoff right by her ear, warm breath grazing her skin.
She whipped her head around and found Scott's face inches from hers, an undisguised, entertained smirk on his lips.
Chloe killed the phone screen at once.
Too late, obviously.
"Congrats," Scott drawled, thoroughly enjoying the show. "One more solid piece of evidence for the divorce pile. Looks like you're another step closer to your share of the money."
Chloe ignored the jab and turned straight back around.
Scott leaned in a little closer, nudging his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "That brother of yours, Randy. He really keeps an eye out for you."
Then his tone shifted, turning curious. "But you don't seem to believe him at all?"
"Want some coffee?" Chloe sidestepped the question entirely and headed for the kitchen. "Good chance to try out the new machine my husband got me."
"Absolutely." Scott followed, and when she wasn't looking, gave her a light smack on the ass, his tone wicked. "First we test his new machine. Then we test that bed of yours."
Chloe slapped his hand away without ceremony and stopped at the machine. "What are you having?"
Scott trailed after her and leaned against the counter. "A dirty."
Chloe didn't even turn around. "Dirty suits you."
She worked the machine with practiced hands and had a dirty coffee ready in no time.
Scott sat on the bar stool beside her, took off his glasses and set them aside, then lifted the cup for a taste.
"Not bad." He gave Chloe a thumbs-up, a rare note of approval in his voice. "You've got skills."
Chloe's gaze settled on Scott's face and lingered.
He always wore those thin-framed glasses, but the eyes behind the lenses had crisp, clear contours, none of the subtle changes years of prescription lenses usually left.
She suddenly got curious. "How bad is your eyesight, anyway?"
"Zero prescription," Scott answered easily, the corner of his mouth lifting. "I look better with them on."
For once, Chloe had nothing to say to that.
