It was a list of every bribe Daniel had taken from the regional clients over the last three years. And next to every single name was a secondary name.
Monica’s name.
They weren’t having an affair.
They were laundering money.
I looked up at Daniel. He was pale.
“You weren’t hiding a woman,” I said. “You were hiding a crime.”
He didn’t say anything. He just looked at the ledger in my hand.
“Monica,” I said, turning to her. “You handled the books. You told me the business was failing.”
She finally looked at me. Her expression wasn’t guilty. It was bored.
“It was failing for you, dear,” she said.
I looked at the key on the desk. Then I looked at the security guard.
“I think I’d like to speak to the police,” I said.
Daniel’s knees seemed to buckle. He didn’t look at me anymore. He looked at the floor, the weight of the last three years finally settling on his shoulders.
I didn’t feel shattered. I didn’t feel like my world was collapsing.
I just felt tired.
I walked toward the exit. I didn’t look back at the room. I didn’t look back at the desk.
I just kept walking until I reached my car.
I sat in the driver’s seat and finally started to cry.
But it wasn’t because of the betrayal.
It was because I realized I had spent years loving a man who never existed.
And that was the part I couldn’t fix.
I turned the key in the ignition.
It was time to go home and pack.
