Bethany woke to an empty bed. Derek's side was cold, which meant he'd been gone for hours. She checked her phone—3:47 AM. A chill ran down her spine.
She padded downstairs and found a note on the kitchen counter in Derek's sharp handwriting: "Emergency at the office. Don't wait up."
Her phone buzzed. Lennox.
"Your husband just left Torrino's warehouse. He looked scared."
"You're following him?"
"Someone has to keep you safe. Can you meet me? We need to talk."
Bethany hesitated. Meeting Lennox while Derek was out felt like crossing a line she couldn't uncross.
"Where?"
"24-hour diner on Maple Street. Twenty minutes."
She threw on jeans and a hoodie, her hands shaking as she started her car. The streets were eerily quiet, and every shadow seemed to hide a threat.
Lennox was waiting in a corner booth, two cups of coffee already on the table. He looked different—tired, with stubble shadowing his jaw. More human somehow.
"Tell me what's happening," Bethany said as she slid across from him.
"Your husband's in deeper than we thought. The software you installed? It picked up some interesting conversations."
He pulled out his phone and hit play. Derek's voice filled the space between them, tinny but clear.
"I need more time, Vincent. Two weeks, maybe three."
"You said that last month, Derek. My patience has limits."
"The Chen account will cover everything. I just need—"
"The Chen account?"
Bethany's blood turned to ice. "That's my trust fund. The money my grandmother left me."
Lennox paused the recording. "How much?"
"Eight hundred thousand dollars. It's supposed to be untouchable until I'm thirty-five, but Derek has power of attorney..." Her voice trailed off as the full implications hit her. "He's not just stealing from his firm. He's stealing from me."
"There's more." Lennox hit play again.
"If you can't pay what you owe, we'll have to get creative about collecting. That pretty wife of yours, for instance."
"Leave Bethany out of this."
"Hard to do when she's part of the collateral."
The recording ended in silence. Bethany felt like she might throw up.
"He used me as collateral for a gambling debt?"
"It gets worse. I tracked the payments from your trust fund. Derek's been moving money for three months, but he's not paying down his debt. He's using it to place bigger bets, thinking he can win back everything he owes."
"How much bigger?"
"He lost two hundred thousand last night alone."
The diner suddenly felt too small, too hot. Bethany gripped the edge of the table. "I have to leave. Tonight. Right now."
"Running won't help. Torrino's people will find you, and they'll think you're part of Derek's scheme."
"Then what do you suggest?"
Lennox leaned forward, his voice urgent. "We accelerate the timeline. I've got enough evidence to bring the embezzlement charges, but we need Derek to flip on Torrino before Torrino decides to cut his losses."
"How?"
"We make Derek think his world is falling apart. Force him to choose between protecting himself or protecting you."
Something in his tone made her look up sharply. "And which do you think he'll choose?"
"We both know the answer to that."
The truth of it hit her like a physical blow. Derek would sacrifice her without hesitation if it meant saving himself.
"What do you need me to do?"
"Go home. Act normal. In forty-eight hours, the FBI will arrest Derek at his office. When they do, you need to be somewhere safe."
"Where?"
Lennox reached across the table and covered her hand with his. His skin was warm, callused, real. "With me."
The simple words hung between them, loaded with possibility and danger.
"Lennox, I—"
"I know this is complicated. I know you barely know me. But I've been watching you for months, and I've seen who you really are underneath all that fear. You're stronger than you think."
"I don't feel strong."
"You installed surveillance software on your abusive husband's computer while he was ten feet away. You're here at four in the morning planning to take down a man who's controlled your life for three years. If that's not strength, I don't know what is."
His thumb traced across her knuckles, and she felt something she hadn't experienced in years—desire. Not just physical, though there was that too, but a deep longing to be seen, really seen, by someone who didn't want to own her.
"This is crazy," she whispered.
"The craziest part is that it's working." Lennox squeezed her hand. "Derek has no idea what's coming."
Bethany's phone lit up with an incoming call. Derek's name flashed on the screen.
"Answer it," Lennox said quietly. "Remember—you're asleep, confused, worried about where he is."
She swiped to answer, putting on her most concerned voice. "Derek? Where are you? I woke up and you were gone."
"I'm at the office. Go back to sleep."
"Is everything okay? You sound stressed."
There was a pause, and when Derek spoke again, his voice was different. Vulnerable in a way she'd never heard before.
"Bethany? If something happened to me, what would you do?"
The question caught her off guard. "What do you mean?"
"If I wasn't around anymore. Would you be okay?"
For a moment, she almost felt sorry for him. Almost.
"Derek, you're scaring me. What's going on?"
"Nothing. Forget I asked. I'll be home in a few hours."
The line went dead. Bethany stared at her phone, her heart racing.
"What was that about?" Lennox asked.
"I think he knows something's wrong. He sounded... different."
Lennox's jaw tightened. "We need to move faster than I thought. Can you get back into his computer tonight?"
"Why?"
"Because if Derek suspects he's about to go down, he might try to run. And if he runs—"
"He takes me with him."
"Or worse." Lennox's eyes were deadly serious. "Torrino doesn't leave loose ends, Bethany. If Derek can't pay what he owes, you become the payment."
The weight of her situation crashed over her like a wave. She wasn't just escaping an abusive marriage anymore. She was running for her life.
"Forty-eight hours," she said quietly.
"Forty-eight hours," Lennox confirmed. "And then you're free."
As Bethany drove home through the dark streets, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched. In her rearview mirror, headlights followed her for blocks before finally turning off.
She pulled into her driveway just as the first hints of dawn touched the sky. Derek's car still wasn't there.
Inside, the house felt different. Colder. Like a trap waiting to spring.
She was halfway up the stairs when she heard it—the soft sound of a car door closing outside.
Derek was home.