Alexander had not merely known about our affair for a long time. He had been collecting evidence, patiently and coldly, building a trap. Mixed in with the photographs, I found a detailed structural plan for the house John was working on, marked in red at key load-bearing points. This was no divorce strategy. He was planning to stage a fatal collapse at the construction site.
In a panic, I yanked the flash drive from the port and tried to erase every sign that I had been on the computer. I had to get out of that house and warn John before Alexander could carry out his plan. But as I quietly pulled the office door shut behind me, I heard the front door downstairs and the measured sound of my husband’s footsteps. He had come home a day early.
Fear hit me so hard I could barely move. His steps sounded steady and inevitable as he climbed the stairs toward me in the dark. I stood frozen, clutching the flash drive to my chest, listening as he came closer.
I forced my numb fingers to slip the drive into the deep pocket of my silk robe.
I managed to step into the hallway and fake a yawn just as his broad figure appeared at the top of the stairs. His eyes moved over me slowly, as if he were trying to read the truth right off my face. In the dim night-light, his features looked carved from stone.
— Maria? Why are you up this late? — he asked quietly, but there was an edge in his voice that made my stomach tighten.
I pressed a shaking hand to my chest and tried to slow my breathing. My voice came out thin and rough as I muttered something about not being able to sleep and wanting a glass of water. I prayed the darkness would hide how pale I was.
Alexander stepped closer, and I instinctively leaned back. I could smell his expensive tobacco and something else too—something metallic, almost like danger itself. He rested a hand on my waist for a moment, and what might once have seemed affectionate now felt like a vise. In his eyes, I saw a flicker that told me he did not believe me.
— Go get some sleep, darling. You’ll need your strength for tomorrow’s important event, — he said, with just enough mockery in his tone to make the hair rise on the back of my neck.
I went straight to our bedroom and locked myself in the bathroom. My whole body began to shake. In my ears, his words kept repeating: tomorrow’s important event. I knew exactly what he meant. The construction site. The place where he meant to bury the one man I truly loved.
I lay awake all night, staring at the ceiling and gripping the flash drive in my fist. Every minute until dawn felt endless. I knew it was my last night in that house, and that the next day would either set me free or bury me under the wreckage of every lie I had lived.
As soon as the first gray light touched the windowsill, I got dressed quietly, trying not to wake Alexander, whose breathing beside me sounded like the low growl of a sleeping animal. I left a short note saying I was going to the farmers market for fresh flowers, but my feet carried me instead to an old park. There, under the shade of tall chestnut trees, John was already waiting for me, his face drawn and pale with worry…
