Chapter 2 - The Second Life
By hour two of the flight, the mid-Atlantic darkness enveloped the aircraft. Most of the first-class passengers had reclined their seats into lie-flat beds, sleeping soundly beneath plush duvets.
Not Julian. He was on his third glass of champagne, scrolling through a tablet while Chloe rested her head on his shoulder, admiring her reflection in the darkened window, gently touching her new necklace.
I pulled up Chloe Dupont’s profile using my personal intelligence subscription. Chloe was twenty-four, a former junior marketing analyst who had been hired by Mercer-Hayes eight months ago. On paper, her salary was $65,000 a year. But the forensic audit software I ran quietly on my iPad showed a far more lucrative compensation package: a luxury apartment lease in SoHo paid via an offshore vendor, a corporate black card with a $30,000 monthly limit, and two "business consultation trips" to St. Barts and Zurich.
Julian hadn't just cheated on me. He had used the company I built with my own late father’s seed money to fund a parallel universe where he was a generous, single playboy.
"Excuse me."
I closed the iPad, set it in my secure crew locker, and pulled back the curtain. Chloe was standing there, holding her empty glass. Up close, her young face carried a subtle, smug confidence—the look of a woman who believed she had secured a prize.
"Could I get another refill?" she asked, her voice dripping with artificial politeness. "Julian said you have the reserve vintage back here."
"Of course, Miss Dupont," I said, stepping toward the galley cart. I picked up the bottle and poured the golden liquid precisely to the rim. "Is everything to your satisfaction in 2B?"
"It’s wonderful," she said, leaning slightly against the stainless-steel counter. She touched the panther pendant again, deliberately letting the light catch it. "Julian is so thoughtful. He bought me this in Paris last month during a... business retreat. He said a woman like me shouldn't wear ordinary jewelry."
I smiled, my expression flawless. "It’s exquisite. Cartier, correct? The rose-gold edition with emerald eyes?"
Her smile faltered slightly. "Yes. How did you know?"
"I know the line well," I replied smoothly, topping off her glass. "In fact, I helped approve the initial vendor line of credit that processed that transaction through our corporate accounts payable three weeks ago. It was coded as 'Executive Relocation Supplies.' A fascinating description for a necklace, wouldn't you say?"
Chloe’s eyes narrowed. "What are you talking about?"
"Nothing for you to worry about," I said, handing her the glass. "Enjoy your flight. Make sure Julian drinks plenty of water. The air at 30,000 feet can be remarkably dehydrating... especially when your entire financial foundation begins to evaporate."
May you like
She stared at me, a flicker of deep unease finally breaking through her composed facade. She turned on her designer heels and hurried back to seat 2B.
Through the gap in the curtain, I watched her whisper frantically to Julian. Julian’s head snapped toward the galley. He unbuckled his seatbelt, his expression darkening from smooth confidence to violent irritation, and stood up.
