Chapter 13 - The Trap
The photograph changed everything.
Police no longer treated Martin as merely a financial suspect.
Agents installed cameras near our home.
An unmarked car appeared down the street.
We were told not to respond to messages.
Not to confront anyone.
Not to post online.
For once, I followed every instruction.
Martin contacted me two days later.
Not Ryan.
Me.
The message came from an encrypted account.
You want the originals?
I showed Monica.
Within an hour, federal agents were in our living room.
They wanted me to answer.
Every part of me resisted.
Then the lead agent explained.
“We control the conversation.”
I looked upstairs.
“Lily never gets involved.”
“She won’t.”
“Her image isn’t used.”
“It won’t be.”
“No meeting near my house.”
“Agreed.”
I typed.
What do you want?
Martin responded almost immediately.
A conversation without your husband.
I looked at the agent.
He nodded.
I continued.
About what?
The truth.
Martin proposed a public coffee shop.
Agents changed the location through me.
A hotel lobby with multiple exits and excellent surveillance.
He agreed.
The next afternoon, I entered wearing a microphone.
Every table around me had an agent nearby.
Martin arrived twelve minutes late.
He looked ordinary.
That disturbed me most.
Gray jacket.
Expensive watch.
Polite smile.
Nothing about him announced what he had done.
He sat down.
“You look like Lily.”
I stared at him.
“Don’t say her name.”
He smiled.
“Protective.”
“What do you want?”
“To correct a misunderstanding.”
“You forged my signature.”
“Diane did.”
“You profited.”
“Business profited.”
“You threatened my family.”
His smile faded.
“You’re being emotional.”
I almost laughed.
That sentence had probably worked on dozens of people.
It didn’t work on me.
“Where are the original files?”
“Safe.”
“Where?”
“Drop the lawsuit.”
“No.”
“Then we’re done.”
He stood.
I remained seated.
“EverBelle never promised Chloe the campaign.”
Martin stopped.
“You lied to Vanessa.”
He turned slowly.
“She wanted something to believe.”
“You knew she’d hurt Lily.”
“I knew she was desperate.”
“And you used that.”
Martin leaned toward me.
“Your sister-in-law has been desperate since she was seventeen.”
There it was.
An admission.
Maybe not enough.
So I pushed.
“And Diane?”
“Diane always wanted a winner.”
“You gave her one.”
“I gave her a dream.”
“And when Lily became more valuable?”
Martin smiled.
“I adjusted the dream.”
Then agents moved.
Martin barely had time to turn before they surrounded him.
His face transformed.
The confidence vanished.
For the first time, he looked exactly like what he was.
May you like
A man who had finally realized the room no longer belonged to him.
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