Chapter 2 - The Seventh Access Code
The handle stopped.
I held my breath.
“Evelyn?”
Damon.
I muted Victoria.
“Yeah?”
“Why are you sleeping in here?”
“My back hurts.”
Silence.
Then, “Open the door.”
I stared at the lock.
“I’m changing.”
Another pause.
“Okay.”
His footsteps retreated.
I waited sixty seconds before moving.
Victoria was still downstairs.
When I entered the kitchen, she looked older than she had at Christmas.
“What do you know?”
She pushed the folder toward me.
“Enough to know you need protection.”
Inside were copies of financial documents.
A newly opened account.
A consultation with a divorce attorney.
A draft agreement transferring ownership of one of Damon’s investment properties.
The date was four months earlier.
I was already pregnant.
“Why do you have these?”
“Because the company’s attorney flagged unusual transfers.”
Damon worked for his family’s real-estate development company.
Victoria still owned the controlling interest.
“Is Claire involved?”
Victoria hesitated.
“That’s what I came to determine.”
I showed her my photographs.
Her face hardened when she saw the camisole.
“You knew about them?”
“No.”
I believed her.
Then she saw the ultrasound.
Her expression softened.
“I’m sorry.”
Those two words nearly destroyed the composure I had maintained all day.
I sat down.
“Why would he prepare a divorce and still pretend everything was normal?”
“I don't know.”
“You always know.”
“Not this time.”
I studied her.
“The private code?”
Victoria glanced at the security panel.
“I created it when the system was installed.”
“Why?”
“For emergencies Damon wasn't supposed to know about.”
That answer created more questions.
But one mattered immediately.
“Can he take my money?”
“No. But if these documents mean what I think they mean, he may try something worse.”
“What?”
“Control the narrative before you understand what happened.”
Victoria advised me not to confront him.
Document everything.
Protect my personal accounts.
Speak to an attorney.
I listened.
At 12:14 a.m., she left.
At 12:30, I called Owen.
He answered on the fourth ring.
“Evelyn?”
“Are you alone?”
“Yeah.”
I looked toward the ceiling.
“I need to show you something.”
“Is Claire okay?”
The concern in his voice hurt.
“I don't know.”
I sent the photographs.
Nothing.
Then I heard his breathing change.
“Where did you get these?”
“My bedroom.”
“No.”
“Owen—”
“No.”
“I came home early.”
He stopped speaking.
Finally he whispered, “The ring.”
“I know.”
“How long?”
“I don't know.”
I expected rage.
Instead, Owen said something strange.
“Evelyn, don't tell Damon I know.”
“Why?”
“Because this might not be what you think.”
I nearly laughed.
“My best friend was hiding half-dressed in my closet.”
“I understand.”
“No, apparently you don't.”
“I do. But Claire has been lying to me about something for months, and I don't think Damon is the only part of it.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Three months ago I found a second phone.”
My anger disappeared.
“What?”
“She said it belonged to a client. I believed her until I saw one message.”
“From Damon?”
“I never saw the sender.”
“What did it say?”
Owen hesitated.
Then he repeated it.
“Keep Evelyn calm until the baby is born.”
My hand moved protectively over my stomach.
“What does that mean?”
“I don't know.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because Claire caught me with the phone. She cried. Said it involved a surprise for you.”
“And you believed that?”
“I wanted to.”
We were both guilty of that.
Believing because disbelief cost too much.
Owen promised to search Claire’s apartment while she was at work the following morning.
I promised not to confront Damon.
At 2:00 a.m., I returned to our bedroom.
Damon slept peacefully.
I lay beside him staring at the ceiling.
Around three, his phone vibrated.
He didn't wake.
I reached toward it.
A message preview appeared.
C: She saw me.
Another arrived.
C: Your mother knows too.
Then:
C: We have to tell Evelyn before someone else does.
I stared at those words.
Tell me what?
I carefully returned his phone.
The next morning Damon kissed me before leaving.
“I love you.”
For the first time, I didn't say it back.
At 9:37, Owen called.
His voice was shaking.
“I found something.”
“What?”
“Not over the phone.”
“Owen.”
“Meet me at the café on Mason.”
“What did you find?”
Silence.
Then:
“Your medical records.”
My heart stopped.
“Why would Claire have my medical records?”
“She has more than records.”
“What does that mean?”
“There’s a photograph of you asleep in a hospital bed.”
I gripped the counter.
“I haven't been hospitalized.”
“That’s what I thought.”
A second voice suddenly sounded behind Owen.
A woman.
Claire.
“Owen?”
He stopped breathing.
Then the call disconnected.
Thirty seconds later, my phone rang again.
Unknown number.
I answered.
Nobody spoke.
Then a man's voice said my name.
“Evelyn Carter?”
“Yes?”
“You don't know me, but I was told to contact you if Owen Mercer ever found the hospital file.”
“Who is this?”
A pause.
“My name is Dr. Nathan Hale.”
I sat down.
“What hospital file?”
“The one your husband paid me to alter.”
Someone knocked on my front door.
Three slow knocks.
I checked the camera.
Owen stood outside.
May you like
Blood covered the collar of his shirt.
And behind him, Claire was crying.
