Chapter 9 - What Fell Out Of Marlene’s Handbag
When Everett confronted Marlene with the toxicology result, she denied everything.
Of course she did.
She said someone framed her.
She said the lab was wrong.
She said the video was misleading.
Then, in one badly judged burst of anger, she grabbed her handbag off the chair and tried to leave.
The bag slipped.
Its contents spilled across the floor.
Lipstick.
Keys.
A card case.
And a thick stack of clipped legal papers.
Everett bent and picked them up before she could.
I didn’t need to be close to read the first page.
Temporary Medical Authority. Emergency Asset Oversight. Signature required.
Everett’s face went blank.
Not angry.
Not loud.
Much worse.
“So that was the plan.”
Marlene lunged for the papers, but he stepped back.
“You were going to sedate me, wait for me to become incoherent, then present yourself as the woman keeping my business from collapsing.”
“That’s insane!”
“Is it?” he asked. “Because your paperwork seems oddly tailored to a sudden medical event.”
She started to say something.
Stopped.
Then tried a new tone—hurt, pleading, intimate.
“Everett, I was trying to protect what we built.”
“We built?” he said. “You arranged for me to drink drugged wine.”
She shook her head violently. “You can’t prove I poured it.”
At that, Everett held up my phone.
Then he held up the second still frame—the one with the reflection of her earring and sleeve.
And finally he held up the papers.
“You’re right,” he said. “The proof isn’t one thing. It’s all of it together.”
May you like
That was the moment Marlene stopped looking offended.
And started looking doomed.
