Chapter 3 - THE COAT CHECK
“Laura, give me the paper.”
William’s voice was dangerously low. He extended his hand, his polished smile entirely gone.
I stared at the offshore deposit slip bearing my forged signature. Three hundred thousand dollars. Money I had never seen, moved into an account I didn't know existed, right under my name.
“You’re framing me,” I whispered.
“Laura, you’re having an episode,” William said loudly, projecting his voice for the audience. He looked out at the sea of confused faces. “I apologize, everyone. My wife has been under immense psychiatric distress lately.”
“Don’t you dare call me crazy,” I snapped.
Melissa stepped forward, putting a manicured hand on William’s arm. She looked at me with a mixture of pity and triumph. “Laura, please. Don’t do this in front of your daughter. Just give William the paper.”
I looked at Melissa’s wrist. The diamond bracelet sparkled under the stage lights. Our accountant’s supposed "retirement gift."
“He’s using you, too,” I told her.
Melissa frowned. “Excuse me?”
Before William could grab the paper, Arthur, the accountant, stepped onto the edge of the stage. “Laura,” he said quietly, his eyes fixed on the deposit slip. “Put that in your purse. Right now.”
William turned on him. “Arthur, sit down before you lose your severance package.”
“I’m already packed, William,” Arthur replied coldly. He looked at me. “Laura, take Grace and leave through the kitchen. Do not go to the parking garage.”
I didn’t ask questions. I grabbed Grace’s hand, snatched the quilt off the display stand, and ran.
“Laura! Stop!” William shouted, but the crowd of bewildered guests blocked his path.
We pushed through the swinging doors into the massive Palmer House kitchens. Chefs and waiters scrambled out of our way as I dragged the heavy quilt over my shoulder, my daughter running beside me.
We burst out of the service exit into the freezing Chicago night air.
“Mom, where are we going?” Grace panted.
“We need to get a cab,” I said, looking frantically down the alley.
I reached into my clutch to find my phone, but my fingers brushed against something else. In the chaos, I had grabbed the heavy wool coat draped over my chair. It wasn’t mine. It was William’s.
I pulled it on over my evening gown to block the biting wind. As I shoved my hands into the deep pockets, my fingers closed around a heavy, rectangular object.
It was a velvet jewelry box.
My heart pounded. I pulled it out under the flickering alley streetlight.
“What is it?” Grace asked.
I popped the lid open. Inside was my grandmother’s antique diamond engagement ring. The one I had supposedly sold twenty years ago to make payroll.
William hadn’t sold it. He had kept it.
But why was it in his coat tonight?
I lifted the velvet insert beneath the ring. Hidden underneath was a crumpled receipt from a private aviation company at Midway Airport.
Two one-way tickets to Zurich. Flight leaving at 11:00 PM tonight.
Passenger one: William Carter.
Passenger two was not Melissa Grant.
The name on the second ticket made my blood run cold.
A black town car suddenly swerved into the alley, its headlights blinding us. The doors unlocked with a heavy click.
May you like
The tinted back window rolled down, revealing Melissa.
“Get in,” she said, her voice shaking. “He just called the police and told them you stole the company payroll.”
