Four Minute Phone Call Exposed My Husband and My Best Friend
I stood in the shadow of the kitchen, watching him. He was completely at peace, celebrating his victory in the dark, entirely unaware of the blue folder in my purse or the phone call Margret Chen had made to the bank’s fraud division two hours ago.
He thought he had taken everything from me. He thought tomorrow he would walk out of that office with my father’s legacy in his pocket and his mistress at his side.
“Yes,” I said, stepping into the light of the kitchen. “A very big day.”
I smiled at him, and for the first time, it felt like a weapon.
The rain was still drumming against the high windows of the downtown high-rise when the elevator doors slid open at ten o’clock the next morning.
Richard walked into the reception area first, his strides long and confident. He adjusted the cuffs of his charcoal suit jacket and checked his silver watch, a familiar, rapid gesture I had watched him perform a thousand times before.
