Chapter 2

The sound of the garage door rumbling open jolted me. He was back. Already. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic, wild tempo. I was still standing in the kitchen, the tablet with its damning evidence glowing on the counter. I had to move.

I quickly swiped the screen off and placed the tablet back on its charging stand, aligning it perfectly, just as it had been. I turned back to the sink, my hands gripping the cool ceramic edge. Breathe, Sarah. Just breathe. You' ve handled bigger threats than this. You' ve dismantled corporations with less information.

David walked in through the garage door, holding a carton of milk. He saw me standing there, my back to him.

"Hey, you okay?" he asked, his voice laced with that fake concern he was so good at. "You look a little tense."

I turned around slowly, smoothing the front of my apron. I kept my expression neutral, a mask of mild, wifely tiredness. "Just a long day. Thinking about everything that needs to be done this week."

He smiled, putting the milk in the fridge. "Don' t you worry about a thing. I told you, big things are happening. That commission from the Henderson account will be enough for that kitchen renovation you wanted."

He was trying to placate me, to dangle a shiny object in front of me to keep me docile. It was a classic manipulation tactic, one I' d taught others to see through years ago. Offer a future reward to distract from a present crime.

"And," he continued, walking over to me, "I was thinking we should take that trip to Hawaii, just the two of us. You deserve it." He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into a hug.

I stood stiffly in his embrace. All I could think about were his arms around Jessica in that hotel room. I forced myself to relax, to lean into him, playing the part of the appreciative wife. It was an act, just like his. A cold war had just been declared in our kitchen, and only one of us knew it.

"That sounds amazing, David," I murmured into his chest.

As he held me, I caught a scent. It was faint, almost completely gone, but it was there. A floral perfume, sweet and cloying. Not my brand. I wore something subtle, citrusy. This was the scent of a younger woman, someone who wanted to be noticed. Jessica, I presumed.

He pulled back, smiling down at me. "See? We just need a little break. A refresh."

My eyes drifted to his laptop, still closed on the coffee table. His gaze followed mine. A flicker of something-panic?-crossed his face before he smoothed it over.

"Oh, man, I can' t believe I left that there," he said, his voice a little too casual. He walked over and picked it up. "I have some confidential client files on here. Can' t be too careful."

"Of course," I said, my voice even. "Was that the forum you were on earlier? For car enthusiasts?" I made it sound like an innocent, passing thought.

He froze for a second, his hand tightening on the laptop. "Yeah, something like that. Just killing time between emails." He was a terrible liar when you knew what to look for. His blink rate increased. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

"You should be careful," I said, turning back to the sink and starting to rinse a glass. "You never know who you' re really talking to on those sites." My words hung in the air, a subtle warning he would completely misinterpret. He would think I was talking about security risks, about hackers. He had no idea I was talking about me.

"Right. Good point," he said, tucking the laptop under his arm. "I' m going to go put this away and get some work done in the study." He leaned in and kissed my forehead. "Don' t wait up for me."

The moment he was gone, the mask dropped from my face. The scent of that perfume, the flash of panic in his eyes, the pathetic lie about the car forum-it was all the confirmation I needed. The betrayal was absolute. The disrespect was profound. He didn' t just think I was a homemaker. He thought I was a fool.

He had built his entire life on the assumption of my naivety. That was his fatal error.

I walked out of the kitchen, past the perfect living room, and up the stairs. I didn' t go to our master bedroom. Instead, I went to the spare room at the end of the hall, the one we used for storage. It was filled with boxes, old furniture, and forgotten things.

In the back of the closet, behind a stack of Ethan' s old baby clothes, was a locked metal box. I hadn' t opened it in eight years. Not since the day I met David and decided to leave my old life behind.

I knelt on the floor, the key-which I wore on a thin chain around my neck, hidden under my shirt-feeling cold against my fingers. I unlocked the box.

Inside, nestled in black foam, was a sleek, unmarked burner phone and a small, encrypted hard drive.

I picked up the phone. It felt heavy in my hand, a weight of a past I thought I had escaped. For years, I had believed that love was about sacrifice, about softening my edges, about becoming someone new for the sake of a shared life. David had shown me that was a lie.

He had stripped me of my career, devalued my worth, and turned our home into a lie. He thought he had won. He thought he had it all.

But he had just reactivated his single greatest threat.

I powered on the phone. The screen flickered to life. My old self, the woman I had buried, was awake. And she was ready to play.