Chapter 6 - The Betrayal on the Tarmac
Julian froze, the cold wind whipping his dark hair across his forehead. Chloe stood near the base of the folding aircraft stairs, the amber runway lights casting long, eerie shadows across her gold dress, which was now partially covered by a heavy black winter coat. In her outstretched hand, she held his authentic, unrestricted international passport—the one the federal government was supposed to have flagged and confiscated.
"How do you have that?" Julian demanded, his voice cutting through the whine of the jet engines as he sprinted across the cracked asphalt. "The feds seized all my travel documents. My passport was supposed to be in a federal evidence locker."
Chloe didn't smile. Her long brown hair blew wildly in the jet stream as she watched him approach, her expression entirely devoid of the dizzy, carefree affection she had worn like perfume back at the penthouse party.
"Governments are easily managed when you have the right backers, Julian," Chloe said, her voice remarkably calm, lacking its usual sultry lilt.
Julian stopped a few feet away, his chest heaving. A cold dread began to pool in his stomach. "Backers? What are you talking about? Who gave you this?"
"Amy did," Chloe answered simply, stepping aside to reveal the open cabin door of the private jet. Inside, the interior was dimly lit, luxurious, and completely empty—except for a single laptop resting on the mahogany table, its screen glowing with a familiar webcam feed.
Julian staggered back a step, his mind refusing to process the equation. "Amy? You and Amy don't even know each other. You were my mistress! She despised you!"
"Despised is such an emotional word," a voice echoed smoothly from the built-in cabin speakers above them.
Julian whipped his head around toward the aircraft, then stared at the laptop screen on the table. The webcam feed flickered, and suddenly, Amy’s face filled the display. She was seated in a sunlit room somewhere in Europe, wearing the same pale mauve cape dress, her blonde hair neatly pulled back into an updo. She looked healthy, radiant, and terrifyingly composed.
"Amy," Julian breathed, stepping forward as if drawn by a magnet. "Please. I got your message. I’m here. Whatever you want—"
"Quiet, Julian," Amy interrupted, her tone soft yet razor-sharp. "You always talked too much when you were panicked. It was one of your most exhausting traits."
"What is happening here?" Julian demanded, looking wildly between the laptop screen and Chloe, who was now standing casually by the aircraft door. "Are you working together? Was this entire affair... was Chloe a plant?"
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Chloe offered a cold, humorless smirk as she slipped her hand into her coat pocket and pulled out a small, sleek device—the master decryption key for the corporate network. "Did you really think a woman as meticulous as Amy would leave her multi-million-dollar fiancé unattended for four months without keeping a very close eye on him? I wasn't your mistress, Julian. I was your audit."
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