Chapter 7 - The Unlikely Ally
The diner on 4th Street was empty except for a waitress wiping down the counter.
I sat in a cracked red vinyl booth, my hands folded tightly in my lap to hide their shaking.
A sleek black town car pulled up to the curb outside, and Frank stepped out into the freezing wind.
He walked into the diner, his expensive cashmere coat looking completely out of place in the dingy restaurant.
He slid into the booth across from me, signaling the waitress to bring him a black coffee.
"You look terrible, Chloe," Frank said smoothly, folding his hands on the table.
"Where is my daughter?" I demanded, skipping the pleasantries.
Frank ignored my question.
He reached inside his coat pocket and pulled out a long, rectangular piece of paper.
He slid it across the sticky table toward me.
It was a certified cashier’s check made out in my name.
The amount was one million dollars.
"Take the money, Chloe," Frank said, his voice lowering into a dangerous rumble.
"Sign the custody papers relinquishing your parental rights, pack a bag, and disappear."
I stared at the staggering amount of money.
They were literally trying to buy my child's life.
"You want me to sell my daughter so your son can chop her up for a billionaire's paycheck?" I spat, pushing the check back toward him.
Frank’s face hardened.
"If you don't take the check, I will hand that deepfake video to the District Attorney tonight," Frank warned.
"You will be arrested for attempted murder. You will lose Lily anyway, and you will rot in a cell."
I looked at my father-in-law, a man who had sat at my dinner table for seven years playing the role of a loving grandfather.
He was a monster.
"Go to hell, Frank," I whispered, sliding out of the booth.
I turned to walk away, fully expecting him to call the police right then and there.
But as I stood up, Frank suddenly grabbed my wrist.
His grip was incredibly strong, but his eyes darted nervously toward the diner windows, checking to see if his driver was watching.
He leaned across the table, his demeanor changing entirely in a fraction of a second.
"Then take this," Frank whispered urgently, slipping a small metal object into my coat pocket.
I froze, looking down at his hand.
"Megan and Mark have lost their damn minds," Frank muttered, his voice barely above a breath.
"They cut me out of the deal. They are trying to steal the whole payout for themselves."
He let go of my wrist and sat back down, returning to his cold, arrogant posture.
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"Use what is on that drive to burn my own children to the ground," Frank said loudly enough for his driver to see his mouth moving.
I stumbled out of the diner and into the freezing Chicago night, clutching the small metal flash drive in my pocket like a lifeline.
