My Late Business Partner's Stranger Protégé Demand My Last $650,000 to Save His Campaign — Then a DNA Test Brought His Empire Down
Chloe slammed her hand flat on the mahogany table. The sharp crack echoed through the sudden silence. Her face was flushed, her eyes blazing at Arthur.
“Fine!” she spat, her voice tight with suppressed rage. “I arranged the payments. Marcus was busy with fundraising. I was protecting his public image. His voters expect a devout family man, not… this.” She gestured vaguely towards Sienna with disdain.
Marcus finally stirred, his eyes darting between Chloe and Sienna, then to me. He looked like a cornered animal, but still tried to project an air of authority.
“Chloe was acting in the best interests of the campaign,” he insisted, his voice a little hoarse. “It was a… regrettable personal matter, handled discreetly.”
Arthur raised an eyebrow. “Discreetly, with campaign funds? That’s not just a ‘personal matter,’ Marcus. That’s a federal offense.”
Chloe ignored Arthur, turning her fury on me. “And what about you, Eleanor? You donated $300,000 to this campaign. That gave us the right to manage all household assets, including the funds you were hoarding!” She pointed at the set of brass keys I’d placed on the table earlier. “You were living here, under our roof. Your finances were part of our operations.”
“My initial $300,000 was a contribution,” I corrected her, my voice steady. “Not a blank check for you to manage my entire life savings or to subsidize your husband’s extramarital affairs.”
I watched Chloe, and suddenly, a detail clicked into place. The way she handled the campaign finances, her cold efficiency. She hadn’t just been covering for Marcus; she had been meticulously controlling every penny, perhaps even leveraging this secret for her own power within the campaign. The funds weren’t just for Marcus’s image; they were a tool for Chloe to assert her control.
Sienna flinched at Chloe’s harsh tone. “It wasn’t just about image, Chloe. You told me it was about ensuring Marcus had ‘sufficient campaign liquidity’ for the final push.”
“Details,” Chloe dismissed, waving a hand. “You wouldn’t understand the complexities of running a Senate campaign.”
I pushed back my chair, the scrape loud on the polished floor. My hands went to the large tote bag I had brought with me, filled with my most essential financial and personal documents. I had already mentally prepared for this moment.
“I understand enough to know when I’m being exploited,” I stated, pulling out a binder filled with property deeds and my late husband’s trust papers. “And I refuse to let my late husband’s legacy be tied to this level of deceit.”
Marcus finally found his voice, a low growl of anger. “You think you can just walk away, Eleanor? You think you can slander my wife and me, and just walk away clean?”
He stepped closer, his face inches from mine. “I will make sure you never work in real estate again. I will make sure no political consulting firm in this state touches you. You will be a pariah.”
I met his gaze, unflinching. “I am a retired developer, Marcus. I have my own money, my own home, and my own dignity. And I have Arthur.” I nodded to the attorney. “You, on the other hand, have a federal investigation looming, a very public paternity suit, and a campaign built on lies.”
I stood up fully, my back straight, and began to pack the remaining documents into my bag. Chloe watched, her eyes narrowed, a silent promise of future retaliation in her gaze. She was a far more dangerous opponent than Marcus.
More Stories
+ There are no comments
Add yours