Chapter 5 - THE WOMAN WHO ERASED KHLOE BENNETT
Margaret Duval arrived at Gabriel’s Manhattan townhouse the following morning.
Uninvited.
Of course.
She walked into the drawing room wearing cream wool, pearls, and the expression of a woman accustomed to entering any room as if she owned it.
She stopped when she saw me.
Then my stomach.
Her face changed.
“Khloe.”
“Margaret.”
Julian stood near the fireplace.
Dalia sat beside her attorney.
Gabriel remained next to me.
Margaret looked around.
“This is dramatic.”
I almost smiled.
“You paid journalists to call me unstable.”
Her expression barely shifted.
“Did I?”
Dalia slid printed invoices across the table.
Margaret did not look down.
Julian’s voice was cold.
“Answer her.”
Margaret looked at her son.
“Careful.”
He laughed once.
“You drugged me.”
“I protected you.”
“There it is.”
I had heard that word before from powerful families.
Protection.
The polite word for control.
Margaret sat.
“Your father believed your marriage was damaging.”
Julian stared.
“My marriage?”
“She was shaping too much of your business.”
I felt Gabriel’s hand settle near mine.
Not touching unless I wanted.
Margaret continued:
“Investors noticed.”
“Good,” I said.
She ignored me.
“They began asking why Khloe wasn’t formally compensated.”
Julian’s face changed.
“What?”
Margaret looked at him.
“You were becoming dependent on her.”
I laughed.
“We were partners.”
“You were supposed to be the founder.”
“And he was.”
“No.”
Margaret looked directly at me.
“You made him look less exceptional.”
There it was.
The truth.
Not fertility.
Not image.
Power.
I had become dangerous because people might recognize Julian’s success had never been entirely his.
“So you made me disappear.”
“I encouraged distance.”
“You paid gossip sites.”
“I managed narrative.”
Gabriel laughed coldly.
“Call it what it is.”
Margaret finally looked at him.
“And you?”
“What about me?”
“You funded Dalia’s pageant career.”
Gabriel’s expression sharpened.
“Indirectly.”
“Your foundation funded the scholarship.”
“Yes.”
Margaret smiled.
“And now you’re sleeping with my former daughter-in-law.”
I stood.
“Enough.”
She looked at my stomach.
“How far?”
“None of your business.”
“Gabriel’s?”
“Yes.”
Her expression tightened.
Why did that bother her?
I noticed.
So did Gabriel.
Julian asked:
“Why do you care?”
Margaret said nothing.
Gabriel leaned forward.
“What did you expect?”
She looked away.
My pulse quickened.
“What?”
Julian’s face went cold.
“Mother.”
She finally said:
“Khloe was not supposed to have children.”
Silence.
I stared.
“What does that mean?”
Margaret looked annoyed with herself.
Then she sighed.
“Victor arranged testing years ago.”
“Testing for what?”
“Family compatibility.”
Gabriel stood.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
Margaret looked at Julian.
“Your father chose Khloe because she was useful.”
My blood turned cold.
Julian stared.
“Chose?”
Margaret continued:
“He encouraged your relationship at Northwestern.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
I remembered Julian finding me at the bookstore café after our first argument.
Had that been chance?
Julian’s face drained.
“Dad told me she was interesting.”
“He knew who she was before you did.”
I felt sick.
“Why?”
Margaret looked at me.
“Because your father owned something Victor wanted.”
I frowned.
“My father was a steelworker.”
“No.”
Her answer came softly.
“Your father was a minority patent holder in an early communications technology portfolio.”
I stared.
“That’s impossible.”
Margaret shook her head.
“He sold most rights after his accident.”
“To who?”
She smiled faintly.
“Victor Duval.”
The room went silent.
My family’s poverty.
My father’s accident.
Julian’s rise.
Everything suddenly touched.
May you like
Then Margaret said:
“And your pregnancy proves something Victor spent twenty years trying to hide.”
