She Decides

PART 2 — THE SECRET BENEATH THE LIES

Derek stared at Alexander Moretti as if he had just seen a ghost.

“What did you just say?” he whispered.

Alexander didn’t repeat himself.

Instead, he picked up Derek’s phone and studied the photograph displayed on the screen.

It showed a man lying unconscious in the back of a black SUV. His face was bruised, and blood stained the collar of his white shirt.

I recognized him immediately.

His name was Michael Reynolds.

Six months earlier, Derek had told me Michael was a former business associate who had suddenly disappeared after stealing millions of dollars from their company.

But the photograph told a different story.

“Where did you get this?” Alexander asked.

Derek reached for his phone.

“That’s private.”

One of Alexander’s guards caught his wrist before he could touch it.

“Answer the question,” Alexander said.

Derek swallowed.

“Michael worked for me. He betrayed my company. I handled the situation.”

“By burying him alive?”

My heart nearly stopped.

I pressed both hands against my mouth.

Alexander looked down at me.

“Emily, I need you to listen carefully. Your husband is involved in something much bigger than domestic abuse.”

Derek suddenly laughed nervously.

“She’s my wife. She knows nothing about my business.”

“Then why did you hide financial documents in her name?”

I froze.

Alexander turned the phone toward me.

There were bank statements, transfer records, and photographs of documents bearing my signature.

Millions of dollars had supposedly passed through accounts registered under my identity.

“I’ve never seen those documents,” I whispered.

Derek’s expression hardened.

“Stop lying, Emily.”

I slowly crawled out from beneath the desk.

My knees were shaking, and one of my feet was still bare.

“I didn’t sign anything.”

Derek took a step toward me.

“Be quiet.”

Alexander stood.

It was a simple movement, but the entire room seemed to change.

“Take another step toward her,” he said quietly, “and you’ll regret it.”

Derek stopped.

Alexander instructed his men to secure the office.

Then he pulled out a chair for me.

“Sit down, Emily.”

I hesitated.

“Am I in trouble?”

His expression softened slightly.

“Not with me.”

For the next twenty minutes, Alexander asked me questions.

See more Stories :

He wanted to know about Derek’s business, his friends, his late-night phone calls, and the money he controlled.

I told him everything I could remember.

Then I mentioned something that made his guards exchange glances.

“Three weeks ago, Derek brought home a black leather briefcase. He told me never to touch it. I accidentally saw a photograph inside. It was Michael Reynolds, the missing man.”

Alexander leaned forward.

“Where is that briefcase now?”

“In our bedroom closet.”

Derek suddenly exploded.

“That’s enough!”

He lunged toward me, but two guards immediately restrained him.

“You stupid woman! Do you understand what you’ve done?”

I flinched.

Even now, after everything, his voice still frightened me.

Alexander noticed.

He turned toward his head of security.

“Get her somewhere safe. Then send a team to the Carter residence. Find that briefcase, but don’t touch anything until the authorities arrive.”

Derek struggled against the guards.

“You can’t do this! You have no idea who you’re interfering with!”

Alexander looked at him.

“I know exactly who you are.”

Then he added something that made Derek stop fighting.

“Michael Reynolds was my younger brother’s closest friend. And I have spent six months looking for him.”

I stared at Alexander.

Suddenly, the photograph made sense.

This wasn’t simply about money.

It was about a missing man, a murder, and a husband who had built his perfect reputation on a mountain of lies.

But there was one more thing I hadn’t told Alexander.

See more Stories :

Something I had discovered two nights earlier.

“Derek has another phone,” I whispered.

Alexander turned toward me.

“Where?”

“In the false bottom of his desk drawer at home. I saw messages between him and someone named Victor. They were discussing a shipment scheduled for tomorrow night.”

Alexander’s face became dangerously still.

“Victor who?”

“I don’t know.”

He looked at his security chief.

“Find out.”

Then he turned back to me.

“Emily, I need you to understand something. Your husband may try to contact you. He may threaten you, promise you money, or pretend he still loves you.”

I looked down at the red marks around my wrist.

“He doesn’t love me.”

Alexander said nothing.

I slowly raised my eyes.

“And I don’t want to go home.”

For the first time that night, I spoke without fear.

“I want a divorce.”

Alexander nodded.

“Then we’ll make sure you get one.”

But before the night ended, his security chief returned with an unexpected discovery.

The briefcase had been found.

Inside were photographs of Michael Reynolds, financial records, and a small envelope addressed to me.

My hands trembled as Alexander placed it on the desk.

Inside was a handwritten note.

Emily, if you’re reading this, Derek has probably discovered that I told you the truth.

Your husband didn’t just steal money from Alexander Moretti’s organization.

He used your identity to move the money.

And he has already arranged for you to take the blame.

I looked up, horrified.

Then I read the final sentence.

Don’t trust anyone in your house. Especially the woman who calls herself your best friend.

My blood ran cold.

Because my best friend was the person who had introduced Derek and me.

And her name was Victoria.