“Don’t transfer the money yet.”
The room seemed to tilt.
I looked from the phone to my laptop screen, where the confirmation button still waited.
$720,000.00
One click.
One second.
A decision that could change everything.
I wanted to press it. Every instinct in me screamed to protect what was mine before Lucas could touch it. But the message had sliced cleanly through my anger and left uncertainty behind.
Who was this person?
How did they know what I was about to do?
My thumb hovered over the keyboard.
“Who is this?” I typed.
Three dots appeared almost immediately.
Then disappeared.
Then appeared again.
Finally, the reply came.
“Someone who knows Lucas is not the only one lying.”
I sat down slowly.
The house felt different now. Too quiet. Too open. I suddenly noticed every small sound: the refrigerator humming in the kitchen, the faint tick of the wall clock, the distant bark of a dog somewhere down the street.
For three days, I had believed I understood the shape of the betrayal. Lucas had lied. Lucas had planned to leave. Lucas had a pregnant mistress. Lucas wanted our money.
It was ugly, but it was simple.
Now, suddenly, nothing felt simple.
My phone rang.
Unknown number.
I let it ring twice, watching the screen as though it might reveal the caller’s face if I stared hard enough.
On the third ring, I answered.
For a moment, no one spoke.
