"I’m not so sure anymore. Time's running out." I glanced at the clock. "Trial's in two days."
"Damn." The pause in our conversation stretched out, tense and electric. "You've got this, Rae."
"Thanks, Miller." But even as I sent the message, doubt gnawed at me. Two days. Forty-eight hours to dismantle lies wrapped tight around an innocent man's future.
I snapped the laptop shut, urgency clawing at my insides. Evidence didn't lie—but people did—time to pick apart the truth from the carefully constructed facades.
Two days. The deadline was a drumbeat in my head, quickening with every passing second.
Chapter 15
THEN:
Angela perchedon the edge of the couch, her fingers entwined in a tight weave. The silence of the room pressed against her like an unwelcome guest, amplifying the drumbeat of her heart. She eyed her phone, its black screen a gateway to potential solace or further doubt.
A deep breath. She reached out, the device cold and slick in her clammy grip. Her thumb hovered, then descended with purpose, pressing the familiar number. The dial tone hummed.
"Sam," she whispered when the line clicked alive.
"Angela?" The name came sharp, tinged with concern. Hearing her best friend’s voice made it hard for Angela not to burst into tears. She and Samantha had known each other since elementary school.
“What’s wrong? You sound troubled?”
"It's Will." Her voice quivered, betraying the façade of calm she was trying so desperately to uphold. "Something's… off. I can't shake this feeling. I might be going crazy, but I just think that something is going on with him. Tell me I’m not crazy."
"Talk to me." Sam's command cut through the static. “Explain it all to me. What’s going on?”
"He stays at work late at nightandcomes up with strange excuses when I ask about receipts I find in his pants pockets when doing laundry that are from restaurants or coffee houses. It’s nothing, he says. Just work dinners and meetings. He’s a pediatrician. Who is he meeting with? He won’t tell. I hear him whisper on the phone or hang up suddenly when I enter a room. He's hiding something; I know it. I can’t stand it anymore."
Angela's words tumbled out, a cascade of fear and uncertainty.
"That doesn’t sound good, Angela." Sam's tone sharpened, focused as a laser. “And you’re sure you’re not just in your head, seeing things?”
"No, he’s always heading to meetings or going on trips out of town, and he suddenly changed his password for his computer. I guessed the new one, though, as it was our daughter’s birthday, but still. Who does that? If they have nothing to hide?" Angela's breaths came rapid, punctuating each revelation. “I’m not imagining things. That’s what Will says every time I try to bring it up. Stop saying that. It makes me feel like there’s something wrong with me.”
"Okay, okay, I hear you. Now, I want you to remain calm for now, and we'll figure this out. You're not alone in this," Sam assured, her voice a lifeline in the tumultuous sea of Angela's worries.
"Thanks, Sam." Angela's grip on the phone loosened, a fragile relief blooming within her chest.
"But Angie, sweetie, you can't let this eat at you. You deserve to know the truth." Sam's voice resonated with an unwavering certainty that seemed to pierce the fog of Angela's trepidation. “To know you’re not being crazy, seeing things that aren’t there. You need to do something.”
"Action, huh?" Angela's words were half-question, half-whisper, as if speaking them louder might make them too real.
"Remember when we were kids? We never let anyone push us around. Not then, not now," Sam recalled, a touch of nostalgia lending warmth to her steady cadence.
A smile tugged at the corner of Angela's mouth. Childhood memories flickered—a shared resilience, a bond unbroken through decades. "You're right," she affirmed, strength creeping into her voice.
"Good. Now, go find out what he's hiding. Do whatever it takes. Go on his computer and go through all his social media accounts. Check for dating sites or other sites where he might be talking to other women. And then, at some point, you have to go on his phone and check that. When he is sleeping, perhaps. You gotta do some work here. Everyone leaves traces in the digital world of cheating. That’s where you need to look. No one can hide their affairs online. And keep me updated."
“Okay.”
With a click, the line went dead. Silence enveloped the room once more, but Angela no longer felt its oppressive weight. She rose, a sentinel in her own life, eyes narrowing with purpose. The living room stretched before her, each step deliberate as she crossed the expanse of soft carpet.
Angela's shadow stretched before her as she approached the study, a silent harbinger of the storm brewing within. She paused at the threshold, hand on the cold doorknob, gathering the shards of her resolve. With a soft click, the door yielded to her touch and swung open.
The room was still, dust motes dancing in the slanting light through half-drawn blinds. She stepped inside, every sense heightened, scanning for disruptions in the familiar landscape of Will's private sanctum. There it was—the desk, a tableau ofchaos amidst the order, strewn with papers, pens, and the silver gleam of his computer.
She approached, a quiet gasp escaping her lips as her fingertips grazed the leather-bound surface of his chair—his throne of secrets. Her heart thrummed against her ribs, urging her on. Angela leaned forward, her breath catching in her throat as she sifted through the topmost papers.
