Chapter 16 - Chloe’s Deposition
We bypassed the main hospital lobby, taking the emergency stairwell up to the fourth-floor executive recovery wing. The air up here smelled of expensive lavender oil masking antiseptic bleach.
Two uniformed officers stood outside Suite 402, their hands resting on their holsters. When Daniel signaled them, they stepped aside, unlocking the door without a word.
Inside, Chloe sat on the edge of a king-sized adjustable hospital bed. She was dressed in an expensive cashmere sweater, her hands resting nervously on her round, protruding stomach—a prosthetic silicone belly strap clearly visible beneath the pulled fabric of her hemline.
When she saw me enter, her face drained of every ounce of color. The arrogant, smirking sister who had raised a glass of champagne to toast the death of my child at the baby shower was completely gone, replaced by a terrified, cornered animal.
"Elizabeth..." Chloe whispered, her voice cracking as she instinctively shrank back against the headboard. "How are you... how did you find me?"
"Take it off, Chloe," I said, walking toward her, every step agonizing, but my gaze locked onto her with pure, unrelenting hatred.
"What?" she stammered, pulling her cardigan tighter.
"Take off the belly," I demanded, slamming the St. Jude cryogenic file down on the bedside table. "Take off the rubber, Chloe! Show the room what a pathetic, hollow puppet you are!"
Chloe’s eyes flickered to Daniel, then to the armed marshals standing in the doorway. Trembling violently, her manicured fingers reached beneath the cashmere. She peeled back the Velcro fasteners. The flesh-toned silicone prosthetic dropped onto the white duvet with a heavy, deadening thud.
Her abdomen underneath was completely flat, marred only by an old, faint surgical scar across her lower pelvis.
"Martha told me it was the only way," Chloe sobbed, burying her face in her hands, her shoulders heaving with hysterical gasps. "She said if we didn't do it, the trust would liquidate the entire Vance estate to the state conservator! She told me you were weak, that you would never claim the inheritance anyway!"
"You toasted to my baby's death, Chloe," I whispered, leaning over the bed, my face inches from hers. "You raised a glass and smiled while my child died in my womb. Did Martha tell you to do that, too?"
"She said your baby was an obstacle!" Chloe shrieked, tears smearing her heavy eyeliner across her cheeks. "She said if your child was born, Arthur Senior’s clause would trigger an immediate forensic audit! They would have tested your baby’s DNA, and the entire bloodline scam would have been exposed! Mother told me we had to flush you out—that we had to force you into a miscarriage before the third trimester!"
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"And who gave you the poison?" Daniel intervened, his voice cold and menacing as he clicked on a digital voice recorder. "We know about the champagne, Chloe. We know the tox screen."
Chloe looked up, her bloodshot eyes wide with sudden terror. "It wasn't champagne. The champagne was just theater to make her drink the water... the sparkling water mother handed her at the door."
