Chapter 7 - The Crumbling Façade
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Trevor sat in his luxury leased apartment, staring blankly at the wall. The silence of the afternoon was deafening. He had spent the last four hours frantically calling every contact in his phone.
Not a single person answered.
His mentors, his colleagues, his friends from law school—they had all seemingly vanished into thin air. Word traveled fast in the financial district. Being blacklisted by the Mercer Syndicate was a social and professional death sentence. Nobody wanted to catch the plague.
The front door unlocked, and Chloe walked in, dropping her designer shopping bags on the floor.
“Trevor, my card was declined at Neiman Marcus,” Chloe snapped, her face flushed with irritation. “It was incredibly embarrassing. What is going on with the joint account?”
Trevor swallowed hard, rubbing his face with trembling hands. “The account is frozen, Chloe.”
“Frozen? Why?” She stopped, finally noticing the cardboard box sitting on the kitchen counter containing the contents of his desk. Her eyes widened. “Trevor... why is your office stuff here?”
“I was fired,” he whispered, the reality of the words burning his throat.
Chloe stared at him, her jaw dropping. “Fired? How? You just made partner!”
“It was him,” Trevor suddenly yelled, jumping up from the sofa, panic and rage warring in his chest. “It was that psycho from the boutique! Sadi’s husband! He called the firm and had me blacklisted!”
Chloe’s face drained of color. The memory of the towering, terrifying man in the charcoal suit flashed in her mind. “The mobster? Trevor, you told me she was just some pathetic ex-girlfriend! You kicked a mafia boss’s wife in a crowded mall!”
“I didn't know who he was!” Trevor shouted defensively.
“You ruined everything!” Chloe screamed back, tears of sheer panic welling in her eyes. “I am not going down with you, Trevor! I am not getting targeted by the mob because you have an ego problem!”
Chloe didn't wait for him to explain. She marched into the bedroom, grabbed a suitcase, and began throwing her clothes into it.
“Chloe, wait! Please!” Trevor begged, following her.
May you like
“We’re done, Trevor,” she sneered, zipping the bag shut. “Call me when you figure out how to pay the rent on this place without a job.”
She walked out the front door, leaving him completely, utterly alone.
