Chapter 3 - The Secret Behind the Locked Drawer
I stood outside my apartment door at six in the morning, holding my keys in one hand and my phone in the other.
The door was unlocked.
That alone was enough to make my heart race.
Because I knew I had locked it when I left.
I always locked it.
Not because I was afraid.
Because Barron always reminded me to.
"Security matters, Emily."
His voice echoed in my mind.
The same voice that had accused my mother.
The same voice that had threatened me.
The same voice that had made me question everything I thought I knew.
I slowly pushed the door open.
"Barron?"
No answer.
The apartment looked exactly the same.
The same couch.
The same pictures on the wall.
The same coffee cup sitting near the sink.
But something felt different.
Like someone had been searching for something.
I stepped inside.
My eyes moved immediately toward my office.
The door was slightly open.
I knew I had closed it.
I walked toward it slowly.
Every step felt heavier.
Then I saw it.
My desk drawer.
Open.
My documents were scattered across the floor.
My hands went cold.
Someone had been through everything.
My passport.
My financial papers.
My old family photos.
The envelope where I kept emergency cash.
Everything.
Except one thing.
My laptop.
It was gone.
I froze.
Barron didn't take random things.
He took what he needed.
I heard a sound behind me.
A floorboard moved.
I turned around quickly.
Nothing.
The apartment was silent again.
But I knew someone had been there.
I grabbed my phone and opened the camera.
Before I could call anyone, a notification appeared.
A message.
From Claire.
Don't stay there alone. He knows you found out.
My fingers tightened around the phone.
I typed back.
Who is Barron really?
The reply came almost instantly.
Someone who has been lying longer than you realize.
I stared at those words.
Then another message appeared.
Check the hidden compartment under your desk.
I looked at my desk.
The same desk Barron had searched.
The same desk where he had been looking for something.
I crouched down.
Underneath the wooden frame, I found a small metal latch.
I had never seen it before.
My heartbeat increased.
I pulled it open.
Inside was a thin black folder.
My name was written on the front.
Not printed.
Handwritten.
My handwriting.
Except I didn't remember writing it.
I opened the folder.
The first thing inside was a photograph.
It was a picture of me.
Standing outside a bank.
I recognized the building.
It was the bank where Barron and I had opened our joint account after we got married.
But the date on the photo made my stomach drop.
It was taken three years ago.
Before I had ever suspected anything.
Behind the photo was a piece of paper.
A note.
I unfolded it.
The words were mine.
But I had no memory of writing them.
If something happens to me, check Barron's private accounts. Do not trust his explanations.
I stopped breathing.
Why would I write that?
What had happened three years ago?
I searched through the folder faster.
There were bank statements.
Copies of emails.
Names I didn't recognize.
And one document that made my hands shake.
A legal agreement.
A divorce agreement.
My name was on it.
Barron's name was on it.
The date was from six months earlier.
Six months earlier, we were still celebrating our anniversary.
Six months earlier, he was telling me he loved me.
Six months earlier, he had already prepared paperwork to leave me.
But that wasn't the worst part.
At the bottom of the document was a signature.
Mine.
I dropped the paper.
"No."
The word came out as a whisper.
I had never signed a divorce agreement.
Someone had copied my signature.
Someone had been preparing an escape plan.
My phone rang.
I almost dropped it.
It was Daniel.
I answered.
"Where did you get my number?"
"Emily, listen to me carefully."
His voice sounded nervous.
"You cannot confront Barron yet."
"Why?"
"Because he knows."
"Knows what?"
"That you found the folder."
I looked around the room.
The apartment suddenly felt unsafe.
"How would he know?"
Daniel didn't answer immediately.
That silence told me everything.
"Daniel."
Finally, he spoke.
"Because there is a camera inside your apartment."
My blood ran cold.
"What?"
"He has been monitoring everything."
I looked around.
The walls.
The shelves.
The decorations.
Every object suddenly felt different.
"Why?"
"Because Barron doesn't trust anyone."
My voice became quieter.
"Not even me?"
"No."
Daniel paused.
"Especially not you."
I sat down.
My entire body felt weak.
The man I had shared a home with had been watching me.
Recording me.
Planning something behind my back.
"Tell me everything," I said.
Daniel sighed.
"I worked with Barron for five years. At first, I thought he was just ambitious. Then I discovered he was moving company money through private accounts."
I looked at the bank documents.
"How much?"
"More than you think."
The room became silent.
"The €1,050 was not stolen."
"I know."
"No, Emily. You don't understand."
His voice lowered.
"It wasn't missing money."
I frowned.
"What does that mean?"
"It was a test."
I felt a chill.
"A test for what?"
"To see if your mother would take the blame."
I couldn't speak.
Daniel continued.
"Barron needed someone innocent to accuse. Someone close enough that people would believe him."
"And my mother was convenient."
"Exactly."
I looked toward the door.
The same door Barron had stood behind while destroying everything.
"Why are you helping me?"
Another silence.
Then Daniel answered:
"Because I ignored the signs before. Someone else paid the price."
I wanted to ask what he meant.
But before I could, another sound came from the hallway.
The elevator.
Someone had arrived.
I ended the call.
My body moved before my mind could think.
I grabbed the folder.
I hid behind the wall near the entrance.
The front door opened.
Slowly.
Someone stepped inside.
I held my breath.
The footsteps moved across the floor.
Calm.
Confident.
Like the person belonged there.
Then I heard his voice.
"Emily?"
Barron.
He was home.
But he wasn't alone.
Another voice answered.
A woman's voice.
"I told you she would find it eventually."
I covered my mouth.
My heart was pounding.
Because I recognized that voice.
I had heard it before.
On the phone.
Claire.
The woman who said Barron destroyed her life.
The woman who warned me not to trust him.
She was standing inside my apartment with my husband.
May you like
And then Barron whispered:
"Now we need to deal with her before she learns the rest."
