Chapter 5
The Palm Court at The Drake Hotel was filled with the low hum of afternoon tea service and the delicate chime of porcelain cups.
Sunlight filtered through the high arched windows, casting diamond-shaped reflections across the polished marble floor.
Sophia was already seated at our usual corner table when I arrived.
She looked radiant.
Her golden-blonde hair was styled in loose, beachy waves, and her skin had the sun-kissed glow of someone who had spent four days basking on a private Miami shoreline.
She was wearing a cream silk blouse with the top button undone, revealing a delicate gold chain.
Around her wrist was a diamond tennis bracelet that I knew for a fact Vincent had purchased from Cartier three weeks ago.
He had claimed the invoice was for a client appreciation gift.
"Claire!" Sophia squealed, rising from her chair and throwing her arms around me.
The scent of her perfume—jasmine and sea salt—hit me instantly.
It was the exact same scent that had lingered on Vincent’s collar when he hugged me yesterday morning.
I embraced her warmly, patting her back with practiced affection.
"Happy birthday, stranger," I said, pulling back with a dazzling smile.
"Look at you! You’re glowing."
"Miami was heavenly," Sophia sighed, settling back into her velvet chair.
"Just sun, ocean, and total peace."
"Did you go alone?" I asked casually, placing my handbag on the table and making sure the gold pen was angled toward her.
"Mostly," Sophia said, waving a hand dismissively as the waiter poured our Earl Grey tea.
"Met up with a few business contacts, did some networking."
"You know how it is. A woman in PR never truly takes a vacation."
"I do know," I agreed, taking a slow sip of tea.
"Vincent was out of town all weekend too."
Sophia paused with her teacup halfway to her lips, her eyes flicking to mine for a split second.
"Oh? Vegas, right?"
"Vegas," I confirmed.
"Emergency meetings with his gaming investors."
"He looked exhausted when he came home yesterday."
Sophia set her cup down, leaning in with an expression of deep, sisterly concern that almost made me laugh aloud.
"Claire, honey... can I be honest with you?"
"Of course," I said, tilting my head.
"You’re my best friend. You can tell me anything."
Sophia sighed, reaching across the table to squeeze my fingers.
Her touch felt like cold oil.
"I worry about you," she murmured softly.
"Vincent works so hard, and you spend so many nights alone in that giant house."
"You've given up so much of yourself for his career."
"Sometimes I look at you and wonder if you're truly happy, or if you're just... comfortable."
The audacity of her words was breathtaking.
She was sleeping with my husband in luxury resorts, planning to move into a multi-million-dollar house funded by my father's money, and now she was sitting across from me acting as my emotional savior.
"Marriage has seasons, Sophia," I replied gently, keeping my expression entirely serene.
"Vincent has high ambitions, but he always comes back to me."
"He bought me the most breathtaking diamond necklace yesterday."
Sophia’s smile faltered, just for a microsecond.
"A necklace?"
"Harry Winston," I purred.
"A teardrop diamond on platinum."
"He told me that the moment he saw it, he knew it belonged on me."
Sophia’s fingers tightened around the stem of her tea saucer, her knuckles turning slightly white.
She knew the necklace.
She had probably picked it out in Miami expecting it to be hers, only to watch Vincent bring it home to his wife to cover his tracks.
"That's... so sweet of him," Sophia said, her voice tightening slightly.
"He certainly knows how to buy forgiveness."
"Forgiveness for what?" I asked innocently, blinking at her.
"He was just working."
Sophia forced a laugh, waving her hand again.
"Of course! I just mean corporate men always use jewelry to make up for lost time."
"Speaking of careers, how is your agency doing?" I asked, steering the conversation directly toward the trap.
"I heard a rumor you’re opening a new office down south."
Sophia puffed up instantly, her vanity overcoming her temporary irritation about the necklace.
"It’s actually much bigger than that," she said, leaning in and lowering her voice conspiratorially.
"I landed an angel investor, Claire."
"A major venture capitalist who believes in my vision."
"We're acquiring a boutique estate in Tennessee to serve as a private retreat for high-profile clients."
"Tennessee?" I gasped, feigning genuine admiration.
"Sophia, that’s incredible!"
"Who is the investor?"
"I signed an NDA, so I can't give names yet," she said, a triumphant smirk playing at the corners of her lips.
"But let’s just say he's someone who recognizes true value when he sees it."
"Someone who knows I'm destined for much more than just local Chicago accounts."
"I am so proud of you," I said, reaching over to squeeze her hand in return.
"My father always said you had a sharp mind for business."
At the mention of my father, a faint shadow of discomfort crossed Sophia’s face.
She pulled her hand back, picking up a macaron from the tiered dessert tray.
"Your father was a good man, Claire."
"He was," I agreed, watching her eat.
"He always protected the people he loved."
"And he made sure that anyone who tried to steal from our family regretted it."
Sophia froze mid-chew, her eyes locking onto mine with sudden intensity.
"What do you mean by that?"
I offered her a soft, brilliant smile, touching the pearl earrings my father had given me for my college graduation.
"Just reminiscing," I said lightly.
"He had zero tolerance for liars."
"Neither do I, honestly."
"Don't you agree, Sophia?"
Sophia swallowed hard, forcing her throat to clear.
"Naturally," she said, her voice sounding suddenly brittle.
"Honesty is everything in friendship."
"Everything," I agreed.
We finished our tea in polite, suffocating tension.
Sophia tried to steer the conversation back to lighthearted gossip, but the relaxed confidence she had brought into the room was fractured.
She kept checking her watch, fidgeting with the Cartier bracelet on her wrist, her laughter becoming shriller with every passing minute.
When we finally stood outside the hotel waiting for our cars, she hugged me goodbye.
"Let’s do this again soon, Claire," she said, her smile looking strained.
"Very soon," I promised.
"Next time, let's invite Vincent."
"We should celebrate all our successes together."
Sophia looked at me, her eyes wide with unvoiced panic, before turning quickly and ducking into the back of her black town car.
As her vehicle pulled away into the Chicago traffic, I reached into my purse and clicked the button on the gold pen, stopping the recording.
She had admitted on tape to acquiring the Tennessee estate through an anonymous investor.
She had linked herself directly to the timeline of Vincent’s fraud.
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I hailed a cab and gave the driver the address to Nora Sterling’s office.
The noose was tightening, and neither of them even knew their necks were already inside it.
