Maya's POV
The crash woke me up.
I bolted upright in bed, my heart hammering against my ribs. For a second, I couldn't remember where I was. Then I saw the floor-to-ceiling windows, the city lights blinking in the darkness, and remembered. Home. My home. Our home.
Another crash came from the kitchen.
I threw off the covers and ran barefoot across the cold marble floor. "Adrian?"
The penthouse was dark except for a slice of light coming from under the kitchen door. I pushed it open and froze.
Adrian stood by the counter, his back to me. Broken glass sparkled across the floor like tiny stars. He didn't turn around.
"Adrian, what—"
"Go back to bed, Maya." His voice sounded strange. Flat. Empty.
"You're bleeding." I could see the red drops falling from his hand onto the white floor.
"I said go back to bed."
Something in his tone made me stop. We'd been married for seven years today—seven whole years—and I'd never heard him sound like that. Like he didn't care. Like I wasn't even there.
I turned and walked back to the bedroom. My hands were shaking.
That's when I saw it. A note on my pillow. I picked it up with trembling fingers.
Had to leave early. Work emergency. Sorry.
But Adrian was here. In the kitchen. Right now.
I looked at the note again. The handwriting was his, but something felt wrong. Why would he leave me a note if he was still home?
I sat on the edge of our massive bed and stared at the paper. Seven years ago, I'd married Adrian Chen thinking I was the luckiest girl in the world. He was handsome, successful, and he looked at me like I was the only person in the room. Everyone told me how perfect we were together.
They were wrong.
I reached under the mattress on my side of the bed. My fingers found the envelope I'd hidden there two months ago. I pulled it out and held it in my lap.
Divorce papers.
I'd picked them up from the lawyer's office on a rainy Tuesday. I'd driven around the city for three hours before coming home, crying so hard I could barely see the road. I'd told myself I would give them to Adrian that night. Then I told myself I'd do it the next day. Then the next.
Two months of hiding them. Two months of being too scared to end something that was already over.
But today was different. Today was our anniversary. The universe was giving me a sign.
I heard Adrian's footsteps in the hallway. They stopped outside our bedroom door.
"Maya?" His voice sounded normal now. Too normal. "You awake?"
I shoved the envelope back under the mattress. "Yeah."
The door opened. Adrian stood there in his pajamas, his hand wrapped in a kitchen towel. He looked tired. He always looked tired these days.
"Sorry about the noise," he said. "I dropped a glass."
"What were you doing up?"
"Couldn't sleep." He walked to the bathroom without looking at me. "I have an early meeting. Better get ready."
I glanced at the clock. It was 4:47 in the morning.
"Adrian, it's not even five yet."
"Important meeting."
The bathroom door closed. I heard the shower turn on.
I pulled out the envelope again and stared at it. My hands weren't shaking anymore. They felt steady. Strong.
Today. I would do it today.
---
Adrian left at 5:30 without saying goodbye. I watched from the window as his car pulled out of the garage and disappeared into the dark streets. Then I got dressed, made coffee, and sat at the kitchen table with the divorce papers spread in front of me.
All I had to do was give them to him. Just hand them over and say, "We need to talk." Three simple words.
So why was it so hard?
My phone buzzed. A text from my best friend, Jasmine.
Happy anniversary! Any special plans?
I typed back: Not really.
What I wanted to type was: I'm getting a divorce today.But I couldn't make my fingers press send on those words.
Another text came through. This one made me drop my phone.
It was from an unknown number.
If you love your husband, don't sign those papers. You have no idea what he's involved in. Meet me at Giovanni's Café at noon. Come alone. Tell no one. Your life depends on it.
I stared at the message until the words blurred. My coffee went cold in my hands.
This had to be a joke. Some kind of prank. But who would joke about something like this?
I picked up the divorce papers. They felt heavier now, like they weighed a thousand pounds.
Your life depends on it.
I looked around our perfect penthouse with its perfect furniture and perfect view. Everything looked the same as always. But something was different. Something was very, very wrong.
Adrian's coffee cup sat on the counter, still half full. He never left coffee behind. He always finished it. Always.
I walked over and looked inside. The coffee was cold. It had been sitting there for hours.
But Adrian only made it thirty minutes ago. I saw him.
Didn't I?
My phone buzzed again. Another message from the unknown number.
*Noon. Don't be late. Adrian's not who you think he is.*
My heart was racing again. I grabbed my purse and the divorce papers and headed for the door. Then I stopped.
On the table by the entrance was a photo from our wedding day. Adrian and I, smiling like we'd just won the lottery. His arm around my waist. My head on his shoulder. We looked so happy.
I picked up the frame and looked closer at Adrian's face. Really looked at it.
And that's when I saw it. In the background, just over his shoulder. A man in a black suit, watching us. His face was blurry, but his eyes were clear. And he was staring right at the camera.
Right at me.
I'd looked at this photo a million times. How had I never noticed him before?
My phone rang. Unknown number. The same one from the texts.
I answered it with shaking hands.
"Hello?"
Heavy breathing on the other end. Then a man's voice, low and urgent.
"Maya Chen. Listen very carefully. Your husband isn't at work right now. He's in a warehouse on Fifth Street, and he's in serious trouble. The people he's with—they're dangerous. You need to get out of that apartment right now. They know you have the papers. They're coming for you."
"What? Who is this? How do you—"
"GO. NOW."
The line went dead.
I stood frozen in the hallway, the photo still in my hand, the divorce papers in my other hand.
That's when I heard it.
Footsteps. In the hallway outside my door.
Slow. Deliberate. Getting closer.
Then the doorknob started to turn.