Chapter 8 - THE TRUTH ABOUT LAUREN
The flight back to California two days later was quiet.
I stayed in Boston an extra forty-eight hours at Admiral Howard’s invitation. He took me to the Naval War College in Newport, where I met several young female officers who were preparing for Special Warfare training. Speaking to them, sharing my experiences, and realizing that my service could inspire the next generation of leaders gave me a sense of purpose I hadn't felt since leaving active duty.
When I landed at San Francisco International Airport, my phone vibrated with a message from an unknown number.
[UNKNOWN]: Chloe, it’s Mark. Please don't block this. I need to tell you something about why Lauren was so desperate to marry me.
I stood near the baggage carousel, replying: [CHLOE]: What are you talking about?
A minute later, my phone rang. I picked it up. "Mark?"
"Chloe," Mark’s voice was tired, but steady. "I'm in New York right now. My father’s forensic accountants just finished auditing the financial disclosures Lauren submitted for our prenup evaluation last week."
I frowned, pulling my suitcase off the belt. "What did they find?"
"Lauren didn't just fail out of pre-law three years ago, Chloe," Mark revealed, dropping a massive truth bomb. "She took out $120,000 in high-interest private loans under our parents' names without their permission to fund her luxury clothing business in Los Angeles... which went bankrupt six months ago."
My heart stopped. "What?!"
"She was facing personal bankruptcy and potential fraud charges from her lenders," Mark explained. "She needed to marry into my family so my trust fund would clear her debt before our parents found out what she had done."
I leaned against a concrete pillar in the airport terminal, completely shocked. "That's why she was rushing the wedding... that's why she was so terrified of the prenup."
"Exactly," Mark said. "She was using my family to cover her financial crimes, and she was using you as a punching bag to make herself feel superior while her life was secretly falling apart."
"Does my dad know?" I asked, my blood running cold.
"My father sent the audit files to your dad’s office two hours ago," Mark said. "Chloe... I'm so sorry your family is like this. But I wanted you to know the truth. You were never the failure, Chloe. You were the only honest person in that house."
"Thank you, Mark," I said quietly. "Take care of yourself."
I hung up the phone and walked out into the cool California fog.
I drove straight to my parents' house in Palo Alto.
When I pulled up to the driveway, I saw three police cruisers parked near the front lawn.
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My mother was standing near the front porch, crying hysterically, while two detectives were speaking to my father inside the open front door. Lauren was sitting on the porch steps, head in her hands, her designer purse discarded in the grass beside her.
The house of cards hadn't just fallen; it had completely burned to the ground.
