Me: What about her?
Three dots appeared.
Disappeared.
Appeared again.
Then Daniel sent:
Daniel: Not over text.
I frowned.
Before I could reply, another message arrived.
Daniel: And don’t trust anyone in Aaron’s inner circle.
I locked my phone.
For the first time that morning, my anger was replaced by something colder.
Suspicion.
Twenty minutes later, I was sitting in the back of a black sedan.
The driver was someone my family had employed since I was nineteen.
He didn’t ask questions.
He simply drove.
I watched the city pass outside the window.
Four years.
Four years of marriage.
Four years of pretending I didn’t notice the little things.
The late-night meetings.
The unexplained transfers.
The new accounts.
