Chapter 8 - The Blonde AmbitionBy noon, the office was quiet. The sight of Jason and Linda being physically escorted out of the building by two burly security guards had sent a ripple of shocked silence through the staff, quickly followed by a wave of undeniable relief. Nobody liked Jason. He was a tyrant who took credit for everyone else's work.
I was going through the final transfer of the operational procedures when my private office line rang.
“Megan? It’s Sarah at the front desk,” the receptionist said, her voice hesitant. “There is a... woman here. She’s demanding to speak to Jason. She’s very irate.”
I frowned. “Did she give a name?”
“Chloe. She says her rent check bounced and Jason isn't answering his phone.”
A cold, sharp thrill ran down my spine. I had suspected there was someone else. The late nights, the unexplained cash withdrawals, the sudden obsession with "privacy" on his phone. But a bounced rent check? Jason was paying for an apartment.
“Send her back,” I said.
A minute later, the door swung open. Chloe was exactly what I expected, yet somehow painfully cliché. Early twenties, bleach-blonde hair extensions, carrying a designer bag that I instantly recognized—because I had bought the exact same one for myself, only to find it "missing" from my closet six months ago.
She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw me sitting behind the massive oak desk.
“Who are you?” she demanded, crossing her arms. “Where is Jason? He told me he owns this place.”
“I’m Megan,” I said, leaning back in my chair. “The owner. And Jason’s wife.”
Chloe’s tough exterior instantly shattered. Her mouth dropped open, and a flush of deep crimson crept up her neck. “His... his wife? But he said... he said he was single. He said he was a wealthy bachelor.”
I almost laughed. “Let me guess. He told you he was a self-made entrepreneur, he pays your rent, and last night his phone magically stopped working?”
She nodded slowly, looking terrified. “My landlord called this morning. The account Jason uses to pay my rent was frozen. I tried calling him, but it goes straight to voicemail.”
I stood up and walked around the desk, stopping just inches from her. I looked at my stolen bag on her shoulder. “That account was frozen because it was stolen money. He was embezzling from my company to play sugar daddy. You have until the end of the month to pack up that apartment, Chloe, because I am seizing the property to recoup the stolen funds.”
Tears welled in her eyes. “I didn't know! I swear, I thought it was his money!”
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“I believe you,” I said softly. “Jason is an excellent liar. But ignorance won't pay your rent.” I reached into my drawer and pulled out one of Jason’s business cards, writing Linda’s home address on the back.
“Here,” I handed it to her. “This is his mother’s house. He’s sleeping on her couch. If you want answers, or an apology, go knock on that door. I hear Linda loves unexpected guests.”
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