Chapter 5

Logan's POV

I sat in the back of my car. My assistant sent over Chloe's bank records from the past few months.

The screen was completely blank. No withdrawals, no purchases, and no check-in record for the flight I had booked for her.

She had torn up the ticket.

I stared at the screen for a long time, then dialed another number to track down the apartment Chloe lived in before her arrest.

The next afternoon, I stood in front of that apartment. A stranger opened the door, holding a young child in his arms.

"Who are you looking for?"

I gave him the address.

The man shrugged. "This place was sold years ago. The transaction went through a law firm." I pressed for details about where the money went. The man dug up an old folder and placed a transfer receipt on the shoe cabinet.

The recipient's account name was Logan Vance.

The date was exactly one week before Chloe went to prison.

I pulled out my phone and accessed my old, deactivated bank account. Sure enough, the transaction was sitting in my history. The amount matched the receipt perfectly.

She had sold her only apartment and transferred every single penny to me.

A week before going to jail, she was still desperately trying to cover my company's financial deficit.

When I walked out of the building, the sun was already setting. The streetlights flickered on, casting a dim light on the cracked steps. I stood by the curb, clutching the photo of the transfer receipt.

The cold night wind blew past. My phone lit up multiple times with incoming calls from my mother, but I let them ring out.

By the time the first street sweeper drove past the block at dawn, I was still standing outside her old apartment.

As daylight broke, I finally got back into my car.

I sat in the driver's seat, my fingers stiff from the cold. The record of that bank transfer remained open on my screen. The date burned into my eyes, refusing to fade.

A notification from my assistant popped up.

It was a screenshot of several trending local gossip articles.

"Billionaire's Ex-Wife Steps Out of Prison and Straight into Another Man's Bed."

"The Woman Who Took the Fall for Her Husband Was Already Dirty."

"Cheating on the Day of Her Release: How the Vance Family Was Scammed for Years."

None of the articles used real names, but the details, taking the fall for a husband, the marital home, cheating on the release day, all pointed directly to Chloe.

My assistant added, "The posts were all published last night. The initial accounts sharing them look like paid bots."

I shut off the screen. I started the engine, but instead of setting the navigation back to the office, I drove aimlessly down the streets surrounding her old apartment.

Half an hour later, Brenda appeared by my car door.

She was holding a stack of printed photos, standing outside my window. Her makeup was flawless, but her eyes were filled with anxiety.

"Logan, stop looking for her."

I rolled down the window.

Brenda thrust the photos through the gap. They were cropped photos of Chloe standing next to various men, taken from highly misleading angles.

One showed her in a hospital hallway being supported by a man, with a scandalous caption. Another was taken outside a motel, showing her walking in while a man stood closely behind her.

"I didn't want to show you these," Brenda bit her lip. "She was already cheating on you before she went to prison. She never planned on coming back to you. She took your money to fund her affairs, and now people online are starting to dig up her past."

I looked down, refusing to touch the photos.

Brenda's voice grew frantic.

"If you keep digging, it's going to ruin you, and it's going to ruin Mason! If she makes a scene, what will happen to the Vance Group? What will happen to Mason's future?"

I reached out and shoved the photos back into her arms.

The papers hit Brenda's chest, scattering all over the car floor.

Brenda froze.

"Logan?"

"Who gave you these?"

Her lips trembled, but she couldn't find her words.

I pushed the car door open and stepped out. I bent down and picked up the top photo from the floor mat, my thumb pressing against Chloe's face.

She had gotten so thin. Her cheeks were hollow, and even in a blurry photo, she looked incredibly sick.

And people were using these photos to spread disgusting rumors.

I threw the photo back at Brenda.

"Don't ever bring this garbage to me again."

Brenda's face drained of color.

By the time I returned to the Vance Group headquarters, the PR department was already waiting in the conference room.

Media inquiries were piling up in our inbox. The online narrative had escalated from a scandalous personal life to Chloe conspiring with outsiders to steal Vance family assets.

In the comment section, someone had leaked Chloe's old identity details, including the address of her pre-marriage apartment.

The head of PR asked, "Mr. Vance, should we issue a statement to distance ourselves from her?"

"No response for now," I placed my phone on the table. "Find the source. Trace the initial accounts that posted the rumors. One by one."

The PR head nodded and hurried out.

Immediately, my mother's call came through.

I picked up, and her voice instantly boomed through the speaker.

"I saw the news online. I told you years ago that a girl like Chloe would eventually cheat on you!"

I leaned back in my chair, rubbing my temples.

My mother continued, "The Sinclair Group has already agreed to the merger. Victoria Sinclair is waiting to finalize the marriage paperwork with you. Get the divorce papers signed with Chloe within the week. Stop dragging this out."

I remained silent.

"Don't let Chloe embarrass us any further. She's a convict, and now she's involved in this disgusting scandal. Do you want the Vance family to become a laughingstock? If you don't sign those papers, I will come to your office myself."

I heard the sound of papers rustling on her end.

Her final words were icy cold.

"Don't make me lose face in front of our business partners again."

The line went dead.

I sat in the empty conference room. The bright daylight streamed in through the glass windows.

A new message from my assistant popped up on my phone: "We found the law firm. Mr. Davis, the attorney who handled the apartment sale back then, is still practicing."