Then his expression changed.
It lasted less than a second.
But I saw it.
His eyes moved toward the inside breast pocket.
Then toward me.
“Did you check my suit?”
My heartbeat stumbled.
“Why?”
“No reason.”
**Callum had never answered me like that before.**
I forced a laugh. “I was checking the pockets before dry cleaning.”
His face became completely still.
“Did you find anything?”
There it was.
The question.
I stared at the man I had trusted more than anyone alive.
And for the first time in four years, I lied.
“No.”
Callum watched me.
Then smiled.
“Good.”
—
Forty minutes later, I told him I needed to pick up medication before our flight.
Instead, I took a taxi to Central Station.
Locker **B-17** was hidden along the back wall of the lower concourse.
My hands trembled as I inserted the silver key.
The lock clicked.
Inside was a black envelope.
Nothing else.
I opened it.
There were photographs.
**Photographs of me.**
Me leaving work.
Me buying groceries.
Me sitting alone in a park.
Me entering my old apartment.
Every photograph had been taken **before I met Callum.**
I nearly dropped them.
At the bottom of the envelope was one final picture.
Callum stood across the street from my office.
On the back, someone had written:
**APRIL 14 — TARGET CONFIRMED.**
And beneath that:
**DO NOT LET HER REMEMBER.**
# PART 4 — “YOU WERE NEVER SUPPOSED TO FIND OUT”
I stumbled backward from the locker.
My shoulder hit the concrete wall.
Target.
The word kept flashing through my mind.
**TARGET CONFIRMED.**
My husband had been watching me before we supposedly met by accident.
My phone vibrated.
CALLUM.
I stared at his name until the call stopped.
Then a message appeared.
**Where are you?**
Another.
**Please answer me.**
Then:
**You found the key, didn’t you?**
My blood went cold.
Before I could respond, someone behind me said, “Don’t go back to the hotel.”
I spun around.
A woman stood near the stairwell.
Mid-forties. Dark coat. Blond hair streaked with gray.
I recognized her voice immediately.
“You called me.”
“Yes.”
“Who are you?”
She looked toward the security cameras.
“My name is Mara.”
“How do you know my husband?”
Her expression hardened.
**“Because Callum used to work for me.”**
Everything inside me seemed to stop.
Mara motioned toward the station exit.
Keep reading — tap the button below to continue.
