The fluorescent hum of the administrative building felt suffocating as Arthur sat in his private office, the folder Chloe Bennett had slipped him heavy in his hands. He opened it, the smooth paper rustling faintly. Julian’s private banking statements lay exposed, each page a sharp blow.
It wasn’t corporate ambition driving Julian, Arthur saw now. Not pure greed.
The documents detailed a failed offshore biotech investment, a gamble that had gone catastrophically wrong. Julian owed a staggering $3.8 million, not to some faceless bank, but to a network of aggressive private creditors. The clinic sale was a desperate act to stave off personal ruin, not a calculated acquisition.
Chloe stood quietly by the door, her shoulders hunched.
“I didn’t know the full extent at first, Dr. Pendelton,” she murmured, her voice tight. “Julian came to me with the initial restructuring, claiming it was for foundation diversity.”
She swallowed hard, her gaze fixed on the floor.
“He was convincing. Said it was about modernizing the foundation’s asset portfolio.”
Arthur closed the folder, the weight of the new information pressing down on him. The familiar anger twisting in his gut gave way to something colder, heavier.
“And DeWitt?” he asked, his voice low. “Did he know Julian was leveraging my personal liability?”
Chloe flinched, her fingers gripping the doorframe.
“He knew it was unorthodox. I didn’t realize until much later what Julian was planning with your coverage. DeWitt… he just followed orders.”
She paused, then looked up, her eyes bright with a nervous energy Arthur hadn’t seen before.
“But when I saw what DeWitt did to your malpractice insurance, how he stripped your coverage—that’s when I knew.”
She took a shaky breath.
“This isn’t just about money anymore, Dr. Pendelton. This is about destroying your life’s work. And his own family’s future.”
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