Chapter 2 - The Stakeout and the White Lexus
""Oh, I almost forgot,"" I announced loudly as I walked into the kitchen, pitching my voice so it echoed down the hallway. ""I was going to take some of our emergency cash to Chicago for safety, but I think I'll leave it right where it is. No need to carry that much paper around airports.""
Evan’s head snapped up from his phone screen. His eyes darted toward the hallway closet for a fraction of a second—just long enough for me to catch the telltale flicker of predatory calculation in his gaze.
""Probably smart,"" he replied smoothly, forcing a relaxed smile onto his face as he walked over to kiss my cheek. ""Have a safe flight, honey. Text me when you land.""
""I will,"" I said, looking directly into his brown eyes. It took every ounce of self-control I possessed not to wrap my hands around his throat.
Ten minutes later, my rideshare dropped me off three blocks away from my own driveway at a 24-hour grocery store parking lot. My older sister, Rachel, was already waiting for me in her dark gray SUV, her engine idling with the heater humming. Noah was safely buckled into the back seat, clutching his favorite comic book. I had texted Rachel from the bathroom during breakfast, begging her to pick us up without asking questions, and she had dropped everything to be there.
When I climbed into the passenger seat, Rachel stared at me with wide, demanding eyes. ""All right, Claire. You look like you just saw a ghost. What is going on?""
""Evan is stealing from me,"" I said, my voice shaking with adrenaline. ""And according to Noah, there's another woman involved. She comes over every time I travel.""
Rachel’s jaw dropped, and a dark flush of pure fury swept across her face. Without asking another word, she shifted the SUV into drive. ""Where do we go?""
""Let's park down the block from my house,"" I whispered, pulling my phone from my coat pocket. ""I have a surprise waiting for them.""
We parked beneath the heavy canopy of an oak tree three houses down, giving us a clear, unobstructed view of our front driveway. For nearly two hours, the street remained quiet. Every minute that ticked by felt like an eternity. I alternated between waves of blinding fury and sickening doubt—what if Noah had misunderstood? What if there was a completely rational explanation?
Then, at exactly 11:23 AM, a sleek white Lexus sedan turned sharply onto our residential street and pulled directly into our driveway.
My breath caught in my throat.
The driver’s door opened, and a woman in her mid-thirties stepped out. She wore an expensive cream-colored wool coat, designer sunglasses, and carried a leather designer handbag that cost more than my first car. Before she even reached our front porch, the front door swung open.
Evan was standing there.
He didn't just greet her like a casual acquaintance or a business associate. He strode down the steps, pulled her into his arms, and kissed her with a desperate, passionate familiarity that burned away every lingering illusion I had about our marriage. He wrapped his hand around her waist, pulled her flush against his chest, and then quickly glanced up and down the street to ensure the neighbors weren't watching.
Rachel gasped, her hands gripping the steering wheel so hard her knuckles turned white. ""Claire... that bastard.""
""Look at this,"" I whispered, my fingers trembling as I unlocked my phone and tapped open the home security app.
I had installed a network of smart cameras six months ago after a series of neighborhood break-ins. Evan had helped me mount them, supposedly for safety. Apparently, in his arrogance, he had completely forgotten that the camera mounted in the upstairs hallway covered the exact approach to our master bedroom closet.
I tapped the live stream and turned up the audio.
On my phone screen, I watched in real-time as Evan guided the woman through our front door, locking it securely behind them.
""Are you completely sure Claire is gone until Thursday?"" the woman asked, her voice crystal clear through the hallway speaker.
Evan chuckled darkly, pulling her toward the staircase. ""Relax, Chloe. She’s halfway to Chicago by now. She won't be back until Thursday night.""
Chloe let out a relieved breath. ""Good. Then today we finally get what Carter needs.""
I froze. Carter? Who on earth was Carter? And what could a man named Carter possibly want from inside my private home?
Rachel leaned across the center console, staring intently at my phone screen. ""Did she just say Carter? Who is Carter?""
""I have no idea,"" I breathed, my mind racing through every business associate, friend, and acquaintance Evan had ever mentioned. None of them were named Carter.
On the screen, Evan and Chloe entered our master bedroom. Evan didn't hesitate for a single second; he walked straight to the master closet, pushed past my hanging dresses, and reached behind the molding to pull out the hidden cash box. He placed it on the edge of our bed and popped the latch.
Chloe leaned over his shoulder, her eyes gleaming as she spotted the fake stacks of stage money. ""How much do you think is in here?""
""Enough to keep the creditors off our backs for another week,"" Evan answered, tossing the decoy bills aside.
I gripped my phone tighter, my nails digging into the protective case. But then Chloe said something that sent a shiver of pure ice straight down my spine.
""The cash is useful, Evan, but it's not what we're really here for.""
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Evan stopped moving. His hands hovered over the open box.
Chloe lowered her voice, her tone shifting from playful to deadly serious. ""Carter made himself very clear during our meeting yesterday. We need those legal papers. If we don't deliver them by tonight, we're both dead meat.""
