PART 2
The sharp chime of the doorbell echoed through the hallway at exactly seven o’clock that morning, jolting everyone awake.
Camryn had arrived a full hour earlier than she had promised, carrying several heavy paper bags stuffed with warm breakfast burritos, steaming chicken broth, and neatly packed plastic containers prepared exclusively for her beloved son.
Without offering so much as a greeting, she marched straight into the apartment, surveyed the untidy living room with a critical eye, and quickly spotted me sitting quietly on the small couch, looking utterly defeated.
Exactly as I had planned.
My hair was messy.
I wore an oversized gray sweatshirt.
My eyes were lowered.
The scrape on my ankle from the broken dinnerware was visible beneath the hem of my sweatpants.
Behind me, the apartment still carried evidence of the previous night.
One dining chair lay on its side.
A crack ran along the edge of the television stand where Marvin had crashed into it.
I had cleaned up the dangerous pieces of ceramic, but I deliberately left the dining table crooked.
Camryn looked around.
Then she smiled.
Not with concern.
With satisfaction.
“Well.”
She placed the bags on the kitchen counter.
“Looks like somebody finally had a serious conversation.”
I said nothing.
That pleased her even more.
She removed her coat.
“Where’s Marvin?”
“In the bedroom.”
My voice was deliberately quiet.
Camryn’s smile widened.
“Good.”
She walked closer.
For several seconds, she stood over me with her arms folded.
I could smell her expensive perfume.
“You understand now?”
I looked up slowly.
“Understand what?”
Her expression hardened.
“Don’t start getting clever.”
I lowered my eyes again.
“I’m asking.”
Camryn pulled the dining chair upright and sat across from me.
“My son is the head of this family.”
She spoke slowly, like she was explaining something to a child.
“You married into our family.”
“That means you follow our rules.”
I glanced toward the bookshelf.
My phone was hidden between two books with its camera facing the room.
Recording.
A second phone belonging to my friend Elena was concealed behind a decorative plant near the kitchen.
Recording.
And the small security camera above the hallway entrance?
Also recording.
I had spent most of the night making sure there would be no misunderstanding about what happened next.
Camryn leaned toward me.
“Did Marvin explain the bank account?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“He said my salary goes into it.”
“Correct.”
“All of it?”
Her eyebrows rose.
“Of course all of it.”
I waited.
Sometimes silence makes people reveal more than questions ever could.
Camryn filled it immediately.
“Your husband shouldn’t have to ask permission every time this family needs money.”
“This family?”
“Yes.”
“You mean Marvin and me?”
She laughed.
“No, sweetheart.”
The word sounded poisonous coming from her.
“I mean the family.”
She pointed toward herself.
“Marvin.”
“His brother.”
“His sister.”
“Me.”
“And now you.”
My stomach turned, although none of this surprised me anymore.
Marvin had shown me the account the previous night after I released him.
It wasn’t jointly controlled by husband and wife.
It was controlled by Camryn.
Marvin’s salary entered it.
His younger brother contributed monthly.
His sister occasionally transferred money.
And Camryn apparently considered my paycheck her newest source of income.
“How much do you expect me to transfer?”
I asked.
“All of it.”
“What about my personal expenses?”
“Ask Marvin.”
“My student loan?”
“Ask Marvin.”
“My car payment?”
“Ask Marvin.”
“My retirement contributions?”
She rolled her eyes.
“You’re married now.”
“So?”
“You don’t need separate money.”
There it was.
I kept my expression neutral.
“And if Marvin says no?”
“To what?”
“Anything.”
“A haircut.”
“Lunch with friends.”
“Something for myself.”
Camryn shrugged.
“Then you don’t need it.”
I stared at her.
She stared back.
Then she smiled again.
“You’re learning.”
I almost admired the confidence.
She genuinely believed this conversation was normal.
Not merely acceptable.
Normal.
Behind her, the bedroom door opened.
Marvin stepped into the hallway.
He looked terrible.
He had barely slept.
His left shoulder was sore from hitting the television stand, and his pride was in significantly worse condition.
The moment he saw his mother, he stopped.
Then he saw me.
I gave him one tiny look.
Remember.
That was all it took.
His face tightened.
Camryn stood.
“There’s my boy.”
She hurried over and hugged him.
Marvin winced.
“What happened to your shoulder?”
“Nothing.”
Camryn looked toward me.
Her expression changed.
“What did she do?”
Marvin hesitated.
“Nothing, Mom.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
“I said nothing.”
Camryn stepped back.
Then she examined his face.
There was a small red mark near his jaw where he had hit the floor.
Her eyes narrowed.
“She fought back?”
Marvin looked at me.
I remained perfectly still.
“Mom—”
“She fought back.”
Camryn turned toward me.
“You put your hands on my son?”
Interesting.
Marvin had kicked furniture.
Grabbed me.
Threatened to beat me.
Swung a chair at me.
But in Camryn’s mind, the offense worth discussing was that I had defended myself.
“I stopped him from hurting me.”
Camryn laughed.
“Hurting you?”
She pointed at Marvin.
“That man is your husband.”
“And?”
“And sometimes a husband has to correct his wife.”
There it was.
Clear.
Unambiguous.
Recorded from three different angles.
I leaned back.
“What does ‘correct’ mean?”
Camryn looked irritated.
“You know exactly what it means.”
“I want to hear you say it.”
Marvin suddenly interrupted.
“Mom, maybe we should just eat.”
“No.”
She waved him away.
“This needs to be settled now.”
Perfect.
I folded my hands in my lap.
“Then settle it.”
Camryn came closer.
“If you disrespect Marvin, he has every right to discipline you.”
“With violence?”
“If that’s what it takes.”
“Even if I say no?”
“Especially if you say no.”
Marvin looked sick.
Not because he suddenly developed a conscience.
Because he knew every word was being preserved.
Camryn didn’t.
“And you told him this before we got married?”
I asked.
She paused.
“Of course.”
“How long before?”
“What difference does that make?”
“I’m curious.”
She looked at her son.
“Marvin always knew what kind of wife he needed.”
“And what kind is that?”
“Traditional.”
“Meaning financially dependent?”
“Meaning respectful.”
“Meaning he controls my paycheck?”
“Correct.”
“And if I refuse?”
She leaned toward me.
“Then you learn.”
My voice became quieter.
“How?”
Camryn stared directly into my eyes.
“The same way stubborn women have always learned.”
I waited.
She finished the sentence.
“A few bruises heal.”
Marvin whispered:
“Mom.”
She snapped toward him.
“What?”
“Stop talking.”
Camryn looked genuinely offended.
“Excuse me?”
“I said stop talking.”
She stared at her son.
Then at me.
And suddenly, for the first time since entering the apartment, suspicion appeared on her face.
“What is going on?”
Nobody answered.
Her eyes moved around the room.
Then they landed on the bookshelf.
My phone screen had illuminated for half a second.
Camryn saw it.
She walked toward it.
I stood.
Too late.
She pulled the phone from between the books.
The recording timer was clearly visible.
01:46:32.
Her face changed.
“What is this?”
I didn’t answer.
She looked at Marvin.
Then at me.
“You recorded me?”
“Yes.”
Her mouth fell open.
“You little—”
She raised her hand.
I caught her wrist before it came anywhere near my face.
“Don’t.”
The room became completely silent.
Camryn tried pulling free.
She couldn’t.
“Let go of me!”
I released her immediately and stepped backward.
She stared at me.
Something about my posture finally told her the defeated woman she had seen on the couch had never existed.
I reached behind the decorative plant and removed Elena’s phone.
Still recording.
Camryn’s eyes widened.
“You recorded me twice?”
“Three times.”
I pointed toward the hallway camera.
She looked up.
For the first time, she became frightened.
“What are you doing?”
“Protecting myself.”
“From what?”
I looked at Marvin.
“Would you like to answer that?”
He said nothing.
Camryn turned on him.
“Marvin.”
Nothing.
“Tell me what happened last night.”
His shoulders dropped.
“She recorded me too.”
Camryn froze.
“What?”
Marvin rubbed his face.
“She has your voice message.”
All the arrogance drained from her expression.
“What voice message?”
“The one you sent yesterday.”
“I send you dozens of messages.”
“The one where you told me to hit her.”
Silence.
Camryn stared at him.
Then at me.
Then she laughed.
But it wasn’t confident anymore.
“You’re making this into something ridiculous.”
I unlocked my phone.
“No.”
I pressed play.
Her own voice filled the apartment.
“Put her in her place today, Marvin. If she resists… hit her. I’ll come over first thing tomorrow morning to make sure she’s finally learned her lesson.”
Camryn’s face went white.
I stopped the recording.
Nobody spoke.
Then I played Marvin’s confession.
“My mom… she told me to take your bank card… control your money… and beat you until you obeyed.”
I stopped it.
Camryn spun toward her son.
“You idiot!”
Marvin stared at her.
“You told me to say it!”
“I didn’t tell you to say it on a recording!”
And there it was again.
Not remorse.
Not denial.
Anger that they had been caught.
I quietly saved the new recording.
Camryn noticed.
“Delete that.”
“No.”
“I said delete it.”
“And I said no.”
She stepped toward me.
I didn’t move.
She stopped.
She remembered what Marvin had apparently told her about the night before.
Her confidence evaporated.
“You’re destroying your marriage over one argument.”
“One argument?”
“All couples fight.”
“Do all husbands tell their wives they’ll beat them into obedience?”
“Don’t be dramatic.”
“Do all mothers instruct their sons to control their wives’ bank accounts?”
“It’s family money.”
“My salary isn’t your family money.”
“It becomes family money when you marry my son.”
“No.”
That single word seemed to offend her more than anything else.
“No?”
“No.”
I walked toward the kitchen counter.
On it sat an envelope.
I picked it up.
Marvin immediately knew what it contained.
Camryn didn’t.
“What is that?”
I handed the envelope to Marvin.
He didn’t open it.
“Go ahead,” I said.
His fingers trembled.
Inside were several pages.
Camryn grabbed them from him.
She read the heading.
NOTICE OF REVOCATION OF FINANCIAL AUTHORIZATION.
Her eyebrows knitted together.
“What is this?”
“It means Marvin no longer has authorization to access the emergency savings account I added him to after our wedding.”
“You can’t do that.”
“I already did.”
“That money belongs to both of you.”
“No.”
“It was mine before the marriage.”
Camryn looked at Marvin.
“How much?”
He didn’t answer.
“How much money?”
I answered for him.
“Seventy-eight thousand dollars.”
Her mouth opened.
That number mattered to her.
A lot.
“You had seventy-eight thousand dollars?”
“Had?”
I smiled slightly.
“I still do.”
Camryn immediately looked at Marvin.
“You told me she only had a few thousand.”
“I didn’t know.”
Of course he didn’t.
Marvin knew my salary.
He knew where I worked.
But he had never bothered to learn that I had spent years saving, investing, and living below my means.
He assumed marriage meant discovering my finances after he gained control of them.
Camryn turned back toward me.
“Where is the money?”
“Somewhere neither of you can access.”
“You moved it?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Last night.”
Her expression hardened.
“Put it back.”
I almost laughed.
“No.”
“You’re his wife!”
“For three days.”
The sentence hung in the room.
Then I added:
“And depending on what happens next, possibly not much longer.”
Marvin finally spoke.
“You said you weren’t going to make any decisions until today.”
“I said I wanted to hear your mother speak for herself.”
I looked at Camryn.
“She has.”
Camryn threw the papers onto the table.
“You think a recording makes you powerful?”
“No.”
“I think evidence makes lying harder.”
Her expression changed again.
“Who have you sent it to?”
I didn’t answer.
“Who?”
Marvin looked at me.
“Please tell me you didn’t send it to anyone.”
I remained silent.
His voice became louder.
“Who did you send it to?”
“My sister.”
That was true.
“My closest friend.”
Also true.
“And a secure cloud account neither of you can access.”
Camryn stared at me.
“Delete everything.”
“No.”
“I’ll apologize.”
“No.”
“Marvin will apologize.”
“He already did.”
Marvin looked down.
Camryn lowered her voice.
“What do you want?”
Finally.
Not remorse.
Negotiation.
“I want both of you out of my apartment.”
She blinked.
“Your apartment?”
“Yes.”
“This is Marvin’s home.”
“No.”
I walked toward the cabinet and removed another folder.
“The lease is mine.”
Marvin stared at me.
“I moved in here.”
“Yes.”
“You told me we would share everything.”
“I did.”
“Then this is my home too.”
“Not after last night.”
Camryn laughed bitterly.
“You can’t just throw your husband onto the street.”
“I don’t intend to.”
Marvin looked confused.
“What does that mean?”
“It means you’re going to your mother’s house.”
Camryn immediately shook her head.
“No.”
I almost smiled.
Marvin looked at her.
“What?”
“You’re not moving back in with me.”
“Mom.”
“I converted your room.”
“You have four bedrooms.”
“I need my space.”
For one beautiful second, neither of them knew what to say.
The woman who believed a wife should surrender everything to her husband suddenly didn’t want her own son sleeping under her roof.
I folded my arms.
“Sounds like a family matter.”
Camryn glared at me.
Then her phone rang.
She looked at the screen.
Something about the caller made her expression change.
She declined it.
Five seconds later, it rang again.
She declined again.
Then Marvin’s phone began ringing.
He looked down.
“Uncle Dean.”
Camryn moved quickly.
“Don’t answer.”
I noticed.
“Why not?”
“None of your business.”
Marvin looked confused.
“Mom, why is Uncle Dean calling me?”
“I said don’t answer.”
He answered.
“Hello?”
A man’s voice exploded loudly enough that I could hear it from across the room.
“WHERE IS MY MONEY?”
Marvin jerked the phone away from his ear.
“What?”
“Don’t play stupid with me.”
Camryn rushed toward him.
“Hang up.”
But Marvin stepped away.
“What money?”
“The eighty thousand your mother promised me today.”
The room went completely silent.
I looked at Camryn.
She looked at my seventy-eight-thousand-dollar account revocation notice.
And suddenly I understood why that number had frightened her.
Marvin did too.
His face changed.
“Mom.”
Camryn said nothing.
“What did you promise Uncle Dean?”
“Nothing.”
His uncle shouted through the phone.
“She said your new wife had enough savings to clear the debt!”
My skin went cold.
Debt.
“What debt?” I asked.
Camryn pointed at me.
“Stay out of this.”
I laughed once.
“You were apparently planning to pay it with my money.”
Marvin lowered the phone.
“Mom, what debt?”
Camryn’s face was pale.
“It isn’t what you think.”
“How much?”
“Marvin—”
“How much?”
She didn’t answer.
Uncle Dean did.
“One hundred and twenty-six thousand dollars.”
Marvin stared at his mother.
I stared at Marvin.
Then I looked down at the paperwork.
Seventy-eight thousand dollars.
Suddenly the demand that I surrender my entire paycheck made even more sense.
This wasn’t merely about control.
They needed money.
My money.
“How long have you owed him?” Marvin asked.
Camryn snatched for the phone.
He moved it away.
“Answer me!”
Her composure finally cracked.
“Three years.”
“For what?”
“Investments.”
“What investments?”
“They went bad.”
Marvin stared at her.
“And you promised him my wife’s savings?”
“I was going to replace it.”
“With what?”
“Once things stabilized.”
“What things?”
She didn’t answer.
Then Uncle Dean said something through the phone that made Camryn freeze.
“Ask your mother about the house.”
Marvin frowned.
“What about the house?”
“Hang up,” Camryn whispered.
“What about your house?”
“Marvin.”
Uncle Dean continued.
“She doesn’t own it anymore.”
Silence.
Marvin looked at his mother.
“What?”
Camryn said nothing.
“The bank owns most of it,” Dean said.
“And unless she finds money fast, they’re taking it.”
Marvin slowly lowered the phone.
The entire fantasy Camryn had sold him was collapsing in real time.
The family account.
The beautiful house.
The mother who supposedly understood money.
The rules about my paycheck.
None of it had been tradition.
At least not entirely.
It was desperation disguised as authority.
Camryn had debts.
And I had been selected as the solution.
I remembered something she had asked me during our engagement.
Do you have student loans?
At the time, I thought she was being intrusive.
Then:
Do you own your car outright?
Do you have retirement savings?
Does the sports center offer a pension?
Does your family own property?
Every question had been financial.
She had been calculating.
“How much did you tell her about my finances?” I asked Marvin.
He looked ashamed.
“Some things.”
“What things?”
“Your salary.”
“What else?”
“Your car.”
“What else?”
“Your savings.”
“You said you didn’t know how much I had.”
“I didn’t.”
“But you told her I had savings.”
“Yes.”
“What else?”
He hesitated.
My stomach tightened.
“What else, Marvin?”
“My life insurance through work.”
The room went completely silent.
Camryn looked away.
I felt something change inside me.
Not fear.
Something colder.
“Why would your mother need to know about my life insurance?”
Marvin shook his head.
“She asked.”
“And you answered?”
“Yes.”
“How much did you tell her?”
“I told her the benefit was around three hundred thousand.”
I looked at Camryn.
She wouldn’t meet my eyes.
“Why did you ask about my life insurance?”
“I ask everyone about financial planning.”
“No, you don’t.”
“You barely know me.”
“Why did you ask?”
Camryn picked up her coat.
“This conversation is finished.”
I stepped between her and the door.
I didn’t touch her.
I didn’t need to.
“No.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“Move.”
“Answer the question.”
“I don’t owe you anything.”
“Then leave.”
She tried to walk around me.
Then my doorbell rang.
Everyone froze.
Camryn looked at me.
“Who is that?”
I didn’t answer.
The bell rang again.
Then came three firm knocks.
Marvin suddenly looked nervous.
“Did you call the police?”
I walked toward the door.
“No.”
Not yet.
I opened it.
A woman stood outside wearing a navy coat and carrying a leather folder.
Beside her was a man in a gray suit.
Camryn’s face changed the instant she saw them.
Not confusion.
Recognition.
Fear.
The woman looked past me.
“Camryn Wallace?”
Camryn stepped backward.
“No.”
The woman opened her folder.
“My name is Dana Mercer.”
“I represent Dean Wallace regarding the outstanding loan agreement and associated collateral.”
Camryn’s mouth opened.
“You can’t come here.”
“I can when my client has reason to believe assets pledged as collateral are being concealed or transferred.”
Marvin stared at his mother.
“What assets?”
Dana looked at him.
“You must be Marvin.”
“How do you know my name?”
She removed a document.
“Because your name appears here.”
Camryn lunged forward.
“Don’t give him that.”
Dana stepped backward.
“Do not touch me.”
Marvin took the paper.
His eyes moved across the first page.
Then stopped.
“What is this?”
Camryn said nothing.
“Mom.”
Nothing.
“What is this?”
He held up the document.
Dana answered.
“A personal guarantee.”
Marvin stared at her.
“For whose debt?”
“Your mother’s.”
“I never guaranteed her debt.”
Dana’s expression hardened.
“Then you should probably examine the signature.”
Marvin looked down.
His face drained of color.
“That isn’t my signature.”
I felt a chill.
Camryn grabbed her purse.
“I’m leaving.”
But Dana wasn’t finished.
“There’s another document.”
She removed a second page.
This one had my name on it.
I stopped breathing.
“What is that?”
Dana looked at me.
“Are you Elena Morales?”
“Yes.”
“I was hoping you could answer that.”
She handed it over.
It was a proposed amendment to the loan.
Debtor:
CAMRYN WALLACE.
Additional guarantor:
ELENA MORALES.
My name.
My address.
My employer.
My annual salary.
And beneath it…
A signature.
My signature.
Except I had never seen the document before in my life.
“That isn’t mine.”
Dana looked at Camryn.
Camryn had gone completely white.
“When was this submitted?” I asked.
“Yesterday afternoon.”
Yesterday.
Before Marvin kicked the table.
Before he demanded my paycheck.
Before he threatened to beat me into obedience.
I looked at him.
He looked as shocked as I felt.
Then I looked at Camryn.
“Where did you get my signature?”
She said nothing.
Dana closed her folder.
“Ms. Morales, if you’re saying you did not execute this document, my client will need to be informed immediately.”
“I didn’t sign it.”
“Understood.”
Camryn finally spoke.
“It was just paperwork.”
Everyone looked at her.
“Just paperwork?” I whispered.
“I was going to explain.”
“You forged my signature.”
“I didn’t forge anything.”
“Then who did?”
Silence.
I turned toward Marvin.
He shook his head immediately.
“I swear I didn’t.”
For the first time since the previous night, I believed him.
Not because he deserved trust.
Because his fear was real.
Camryn had hidden something from both of us.
Dana looked at the document again.
“There may be a simple way to establish where it originated.”
“How?”
“The electronic submission contains metadata.”
Camryn’s eyes widened.
Dana noticed.
So did I.
“What metadata?” I asked.
“Device identification.”
“Network information.”
“Timestamp.”
“And sometimes location.”
Camryn grabbed her purse again.
“I have to go.”
I moved aside this time.
“Go ahead.”
She stopped.
My willingness frightened her more than resistance would have.
“Why are you smiling?”
“Because yesterday you thought I was trapped.”
I lifted the forged document.
“Today, you handed me evidence.”
“I didn’t hand you anything.”
“No.”
I looked at Dana.
“Your creditor did.”
Camryn walked toward the door.
Then my phone vibrated.
A message from an unknown number.
I almost ignored it.
Then I saw the attachment.
A photograph.
It showed Marvin sitting at a café.
Across from him sat Camryn.
The date stamp was from two weeks before our wedding.
On the table between them was a folder.
I enlarged the image.
My employment information was visible on the top page.
Another message arrived.
YOU THINK CAMRYN PLANNED THIS ALONE.
My stomach tightened.
A second photograph appeared.
Same café.
Same table.
But this time, another man had joined them.
I didn’t recognize him.
Dana did.
Her expression changed instantly.
“Where did you get that?”
“Who is he?”
She stared at the photograph.
“His name is Victor Hale.”
“Who is Victor Hale?”
“The loan broker who prepared Camryn’s documents.”
Camryn stopped at the doorway.
Marvin looked at his mother.
Then at the picture.
“What were you meeting him about before my wedding?”
Camryn said nothing.
The unknown number sent another message.
ASK MARVIN WHY YOUR WEDDING DATE WAS MOVED FORWARD.
I looked at my husband.
“What?”
Marvin went pale.
“What is it?”
“Why did you suddenly want to marry me three weeks earlier than we planned?”
“Elena—”
“Answer me.”
“My mother said the original date was inconvenient.”
Camryn closed her eyes.
“For who?”
I asked.
Marvin looked at his mother.
Then at me.
“I don’t know.”
Another message.
THE LOAN DEADLINE WAS FOUR DAYS AFTER YOUR WEDDING.
I looked at Dana.
She checked her documents.
Then slowly nodded.
“That’s correct.”
Everything became horribly clear.
The rushed wedding.
The questions about my income.
The family account.
The demand for my bank card.
The forged guarantee.
They hadn’t simply expected me to become an obedient wife.
Someone needed me legally tied to Marvin before a financial deadline.
And when I resisted surrendering my money…
Violence was supposed to make me cooperate.
I looked at Marvin.
“Did you know about the deadline?”
“No.”
“Did you know your mother planned to use me as a guarantor?”
“No.”
“Did you know she had my employment information?”
He hesitated.
That hesitation was enough.
“What did you give her?”
“My benefits packet.”
I stared at him.
“And?”
“Some tax documents.”
“And?”
“A copy of your driver’s license.”
My stomach dropped.
“You gave your mother my identification?”
“She said she needed it for family insurance.”
“We weren’t even married yet.”
“I didn’t think—”
“No.”
I interrupted him.
“You didn’t.”
Camryn suddenly opened the door.
Dana stepped aside.
“Where are you going?” Marvin demanded.
“Home.”
“Mom!”
She turned.
And for the first time, the mask disappeared completely.
“You want the truth?”
She pointed at me.
“She was supposed to solve this.”
My blood ran cold.
“What?”
“You married a woman with a stable government job.”
“A pension.”
“Good credit.”
“Savings.”
“Insurance.”
“And instead of doing what families do and helping, she acts like everything belongs to her.”
“It does belong to me.”
“You married my son!”
“That doesn’t make me your bank.”
Camryn laughed bitterly.
“You think this is about seventy-eight thousand dollars?”
Nobody spoke.
She looked at Dana.
Then at Marvin.
Then finally at me.
“That money wouldn’t even cover half of what we need.”
“We?”
Marvin whispered.
Camryn realized what she had said.
But it was too late.
“What do you mean ‘we’?” I asked.
She said nothing.
My phone vibrated again.
One final message from the unknown number.
CHECK WHO THE REAL BENEFICIARY IS ON YOUR NEW POLICY.
I stared at the screen.
“What new policy?”
Marvin looked confused.
Dana looked confused.
Camryn didn’t.
And that was the moment I knew.
I slowly lifted my eyes toward her.
“You took out another insurance policy on me.”
Camryn backed toward the hallway.
“No.”
“Who is the beneficiary?”
“No one.”
“Who?”
She ran.
Dana shouted after her.
Marvin started toward the door.
I grabbed his sleeve.
“Let her go.”
“But—”
“Let her go.”
He stared at me.
I held up my phone.
Because another attachment had arrived.
An insurance application.
My name appeared beneath:
INSURED.
Coverage:
$750,000.
And under BENEFICIARY was a name I expected to recognize.
Marvin Wallace.
Except someone had crossed his name out before submission.
A different name had been typed beneath it.
VICTOR HALE.
The loan broker.
Marvin stared at the screen.
“What the hell?”
Dana whispered:
“That makes no sense.”
Then the unknown sender sent one final sentence.
IT WILL WHEN YOU FIND OUT VICTOR ISN’T JUST HER LOAN BROKER.
I looked toward the open doorway where Camryn had disappeared.
And suddenly, our three-day marriage wasn’t the biggest secret in that apartment anymore.
Because whoever had been messaging me clearly knew something Marvin didn’t.
Something about his mother.
Something about Victor Hale.
And apparently something worth three-quarters of a million dollars if I died.
