Chapter 4: Ninety-Seven
I sat in my car for twenty minutes before I opened the envelope.
Inside were twelve pages.
Handwritten on the first page, in Liam's careful script, was a title.
*Project Settlement — Full Record.*
Beneath it, a date.
Two weeks after the dance competition.
Four years ago.
I read slowly.
I didn't let myself rush.
The financial arrangement with Scarlett's father was laid out in plain language: full seed funding for Brendan's tech company, valued at three hundred thousand dollars, contingent on completion of all ninety-nine schemes.
Signed by Brendan.
Witnessed by Mason.
The judge bribery was documented with names, amounts, and dates.
Pages four through nine were a log of every scheme.
Numbered.
Categorized.
With notes on how I had reacted.
How long it took me to recover.
Whether I had cried.
Brendan had written most of the notes himself.
*Number 23 — told her the apartment lease was in her name only and the landlord was evicting her.
Chloe spent six hours on the phone sorting it out.
Reaction: panic, then relief.
Duration: one full day.
Rating: effective.*
I turned pages without stopping.
*Number 41 — plagiarism accusation, university.
Chloe missed graduation ceremony entry by forty minutes.
Parents were waiting outside.
Reaction: distress, shame.
Duration: three days of recovery.
Rating: high impact.*
*Number 67 — arranged for her dance studio contract to be quietly cancelled without explanation.
She believed she had failed a performance review.
Reaction: withdrew from two auditions.
Duration: approximately six weeks.
Rating: very effective.*
Six weeks.
I had spent six weeks believing I wasn't good enough to audition.
I put the pages down on the passenger seat and looked through the windshield at the parking garage wall.
Then I picked them up and kept reading.
Page ten was different.
It was typed, not handwritten.
Scarlett's name was at the top.
It was an email she had sent to Brendan three weeks ago.
*The last three need to escalate.
97 and 98 should destabilize her emotionally.
99 is the finishing blow.
I want her to feel completely alone before it lands.
If she has any support system left — friends, family, professional connections — we need to remove it first.
Start with the mother.*
Start with the mother.
I read it again.
Then again.
My mother was supposed to leave for Tucson next week.
I reached into my bag and pulled out my phone and called her immediately.
She picked up on the second ring.
"Chloe?
I thought you were—"
"Mom." I kept my voice level.
"Has anyone called you this week?
Anyone you didn't recognize?"
A pause.
"Well, yes, actually.
A woman called yesterday.
She said she was from the university alumni office.
She wanted to talk about some kind of complaint related to your thesis."
Every muscle in my body went cold.
"What did you tell her?"
"I said I didn't know what she was talking about and she should contact you directly." Another pause.
"Chloe, what is going on?"
"I need you to do something for me.
If anyone calls again — from the university, from a legal office, from anywhere — don't answer.
And don't call Dad from your usual number until I talk to you again."
"You're scaring me."
"I know.
I'm sorry." I pressed my hand against the steering wheel.
"I'll explain everything soon.
I promise.
Just trust me for the next few days."
"Chloe—"
"Mom.
Please."
A long silence.
Then: "Okay."
I hung up and sat there.
They had already started.
Scheme ninety-seven was already in motion.
I opened the envelope again and found the last two pages.
Liam had written notes on the final three.
*97 — Contact Chloe's mother.
Pose as university official.
Plant early doubt about thesis fraud claim.
Goal: isolate Chloe from family support before 98 lands.*
*98 — Anonymous tip to Chloe's current employer.
Claim she falsified her professional portfolio references.
Goal: create professional instability.
Time with 97 so she is dealing with both simultaneously.*
*99 — File formal fraud complaint with university ethics board.
Attach fabricated documentation.
Coordinate with Scarlett's family attorney.
Goal: permanent reputational damage.*
I looked at the date Liam had written at the top of this page.
These were scheduled to happen across the next ten days.
I had already lost two of them.
I looked at my phone.
Brendan's message from last night was still sitting there.
*"Come tomorrow.
We still have three things left to take care of."*
He thought I didn't know.
He thought I was going to walk back in tomorrow and hand him the next humiliation myself.
I typed back a single word.
*"Tomorrow."*
Then I drove home, sat at my kitchen table, and opened my laptop.
I had ten days and a twelve-page document.
May you like
And I had spent three years learning how to clean up messes that weren't mine.
This time, the mess was going to belong to someone else.
