Chapter 6: The Other Side of the Glass
"Marcus.
Where did you get this document?"
He closed the laptop halfway.
"Someone sent it to me."
"Who?"
"I don't know.
Anonymous email.
Last night, about an hour after I left the restaurant." He looked at her carefully.
"I know how that sounds."
"It sounds like someone is using you," Maya said.
"Or someone is trying to warn you."
She sat back.
The noise of the coffee shop pressed in around them — the hiss of the machine, a child laughing two tables over, the scrape of a chair.
"Think about it," Marcus said.
"James shows up last night with photographs.
A divorce petition he filed that same morning.
He knew exactly where you'd be, exactly when, exactly who you'd be with." He leaned forward.
"That's not a husband who just found out.
That's a man who has been building a case."
"He told me he's known for six months."
"Right.
So what was he doing for six months, Maya?
Because it wasn't grieving." Marcus opened the laptop again.
"The document I showed you — that transfer happened eleven months ago.
Before he says he knew about us.
Whatever he's been hiding, it started before any of this."
Maya looked at the screen again.
The signature.
The number beside it was not small.
"I need to know who sent this to you," she said.
"I told you — anonymous."
"Forward me the email."
He pulled out his phone, found it, sent it.
Her phone buzzed on the table.
She opened it.
The sender address was a string of random characters.
No name.
No other message.
Just the document, attached.
She looked at the metadata on the attachment.
The file had been created thirteen months ago.
Scanned from a physical document.
Someone had been holding this for over a year.
"James is not who you think he is," Marcus said quietly.
Maya looked up from her phone.
"And you are?"
He didn't answer immediately.
"You lied to me too," she said.
"You knew I was married."
"You told me you were separated.
That it was over in everything but paperwork."
"And you believed that because it was convenient." She held his gaze.
"Don't make yourself the honest one in this story, Marcus."
He was quiet for a moment.
Then: "Fair."
She stood and picked up her bag.
"I'm going home."
"What are you going to do?"
"I'm going to talk to James."
"Maya —" He reached out and stopped just short of touching her arm.
"If he's been hiding money, if there's something wrong with how he closed that company — you could be connected to it.
Legally.
You're still his wife."
She stopped.
She hadn't thought of that.
"You need your own lawyer," Marcus said.
"Before you talk to him.
Before you do anything."
She stood there in the middle of the coffee shop, her coat half on, the morning crowd moving around her.
Then her phone rang.
She looked at the screen.
It was James.
She stared at his name for three full rings.
Marcus watched her without speaking.
She answered.
"Where are you?" James said.
His voice was different from last night.
Not cold.
Not controlled.
Something underneath it that she couldn't immediately name.
"Out," she said carefully.
"Why?"
"I need you to come home." A pause.
"Now, Maya.
Please."
She had not heard him say *please* in a very long time.
"What's happened?"
Another pause.
Longer.
"Someone broke into the house last night," James said.
"They didn't take anything.
But they went through my office." His voice dropped.
"Every drawer.
Every file.
My laptop is gone."
Maya's eyes moved to Marcus across the table.
He was watching her face.
He hadn't touched his coffee in ten minutes.
"I'll be there soon," she said, and ended the call.
She looked at Marcus for a long moment.
"Did you know about the break-in?" she asked.
Something moved behind his eyes.
Fast.
Gone before she could name it.
May you like
"Of course not," he said.
She picked up her bag and walked out without looking back.
