Chapter 3 - THE BURNER PHONE
I refused to be a victim. If Brandon thought he could discard me and steal my future, he had severely underestimated the woman he married. David advised us to stay quiet and let him build the legal case, but I needed answers. I needed to know who was behind the offshore LLC.
That weekend, knowing Brandon would be at his weekly golf game, I drove back to the River North apartment. I still had the spare key he didn't know about, hidden in the magnetic box under the hallway planter. The apartment smelled of stale beer and cheap cologne. It felt like a stranger's home.
I tore through his home office. I checked the back of drawers, the pockets of his winter coats, the hollow space beneath the floorboards in the closet. After an hour of desperate searching, my fingers brushed against cold plastic taped beneath the bottom drawer of his filing cabinet.
I pulled it out. A cheap, prepaid burner phone.
My heart hammered against my ribs as I plugged it into a charger. After agonizing minutes, the screen flickered to life. There was no passcode. I opened the messages app and found a single thread saved under the initial "C."
C: Did you get them out?
Brandon: Yes. Had to cause a scene with the old lady, but Sarah left. The accounts will be drained by Tuesday. Pack your bags.
May you like
C: Good. The Cayman account is ready. Santorini is waiting for us.
Bile rose in my throat. Santorini. We had always talked about going to Greece for our ten-year anniversary. I scrolled up, reading months of sordid texts. "C" was Chloe. My supposed best friend, the real estate agent who had helped us buy this very apartment. They had been sleeping together for over a year. They were planning to steal my money and start a new life in Europe. I didn't cry. I took out my own phone, photographed every single message, and smiled a dangerous smile.
