Chapter 13 - The Poisoned WellThe following morning, the harassment escalated from hidden threats to active sabotage.
By 9:00 AM, three of Chloe’s largest corporate clients received anonymous emails containing heavily edited, forged non-disclosure agreements and copyright infringement claims. The emails claimed that the design work Chloe had delivered to them was stolen property subject to ongoing federal litigation in Georgia.
Two major clients immediately suspended their contracts, freezing over $40,000 in pending payments.
"They're canceling the autumn campaign, Mom," Chloe whispered, staring at an email on her laptop screen. Tears of sheer frustration spilled over her lashes. "If this leaks to the design press, no corporate client will touch my studio again. The liability risk is too high."
"This is exactly what he wants," I said, sitting beside her. "He wants you isolated, broke, and terrified again. He wants you to feel like the floor under your feet is disappearing."
"It is disappearing!" she cried out, her voice cracking with the weight of months of built-up pressure. "No matter how far I run, no matter how many locks we put on the door, he finds a way to reach through!"
I took her face in my hands, forcing her to look at me.
"Look at me, Chloe. When you were kneeling on that kitchen floor in Atlanta, you didn't have a voice. You didn't have your name. You didn't have your files. Today, you have all three. They are using forged papers and phantom threats because they are afraid of what happens when you stand your ground."
I stood up and grabbed my coat.
May you like
"Where are you going, Mom?"
"To see Robert," I said, my voice hardening into iron. "Marcus Prescott thinks he can play corporate chess from the shadows. He forgot that every paper trail leaves a footprint—and thirty years of teaching taught me how to track down children who think they can hide their mess."
