Bethany pulled into her driveway with two minutes to spare. Derek's Mercedes was already there, which meant he was home early. Her hands trembled as she shoved the envelope under her seat.
She found him in his study, hunched over his laptop. The room reeked of whiskey despite the half-empty coffee mug on his desk.
"You're late," he said without looking up.
"I went to the grocery store. Traffic was heavy."
"Show me the receipt."
Bethany's stomach dropped. She'd been so rattled by her meeting with Lennox that she'd forgotten to actually go shopping. "I... I forgot to get it from the cashier."
Derek's fingers stopped moving on the keyboard. Slowly, he turned to face her, and she saw the familiar storm brewing in his eyes.
"You forgot."
"It happens, Derek. I was distracted—"
"By what?" He stood up, closing the laptop with a sharp snap. "What could possibly be more important than following simple instructions?"
Bethany's mind raced. She needed a believable lie, something that would explain her distraction without raising suspicion.
"I ran into Marla Davidson at the store. She wanted to talk about the charity gala."
Derek's expression shifted slightly. The charity gala was important to his image, and Marla Davidson was the wife of his biggest client.
"What did she say?"
"She asked if I'd help with the silent auction. I told her I'd need to check with you first."
It was the right answer. Derek's shoulders relaxed fractionally.
"Good. You'll do it, of course. The Davidsons' approval could mean a partnership track for me."
"Of course." Bethany forced a smile. "Should I start dinner?"
"I already ordered Chinese. It'll be here in twenty minutes." Derek returned to his desk. "I have calls to make. Don't disturb me."
Bethany nodded and backed out of the room. The moment she closed the door, she sagged against the wall. Her hands were shaking so badly she could barely hold her phone as she texted Lennox.
"I'm in. But I need time to figure out how to get to his files."
The response came immediately: "Already taken care of. Check your email."
Bethany frowned and opened her email app. There was a message from someone named Bradley Chen with the subject line "Family Photos."
She opened it to find what looked like innocent family pictures, but when she scrolled down, there was a single line of text: "Install this on his computer when you get the chance."
Below that was a link to download something called "PhotoSync Pro."
Her phone buzzed with another text from Lennox: "It looks like photo organizing software. Takes thirty seconds to install. Once it's on his system, I can access everything remotely."
"What if he notices it?"
"He won't. It runs invisibly in the background. Trust me."
Trust him. She barely knew him, and yet something about Lennox made her want to believe she wasn't alone in this anymore.
The doorbell rang. Chinese food. Derek would expect her to answer it, set the table, serve him like she always did. But tonight, she had a different plan.
"Derek? Food's here!" she called out.
"So answer it!"
"I'm in the bathroom! Can you get it?"
She heard his chair scrape back, followed by heavy footsteps and muttered complaints. The moment she heard the front door open, she slipped into his study.
Derek's laptop was still open, the screen dark but not locked. She moved the mouse, and his desktop appeared. Her heart hammered as she navigated to the download link Lennox had sent.
Footsteps in the hallway. Derek was coming back.
The download bar crept across the screen with agonizing slowness. Seventy percent. Eighty percent.
"Bethany! Where are you?"
"Coming!" She watched the bar inch forward. Ninety-five percent.
Derek's footsteps stopped outside the study door.
"What are you doing in there?"
One hundred percent. The installation window popped up. She clicked through the prompts as fast as her shaking fingers would allow.
"I was looking for a pen to write a grocery list," she called out, closing the installation window just as the door opened.
Derek stood in the doorway holding white takeout bags, his eyes suspicious. "There are pens in the kitchen."
"I know, but I thought you might have one of those nice ones from the firm. For my thank-you note to Marla Davidson."
Again, the right answer. Derek's suspicion faded into approval.
"Use the gold one in the top drawer. And make sure you mention how much the firm values their business."
"I will." Bethany walked past him, forcing herself to move slowly, casually. "Should I set the table?"
"Living room. I want to watch the game."
As Derek settled onto the couch with his dinner, Bethany's phone buzzed quietly in her pocket.
A message from Lennox: "I'm in. Good work."
She deleted the message and joined her husband in the living room, serving him lo mein and orange chicken like the dutiful wife she'd always been.
But inside, for the first time in three years, she felt like she was the one holding all the cards.
"Derek?" she said sweetly. "I forgot to ask. How was work today?"
He looked up from his plate, surprised by her sudden interest. "Fine. Why?"
"No reason. I just like hearing about your day."
Derek smiled, and for a moment, he looked like the man she'd married. Before she knew what kind of monster lived beneath the surface.
"It was a good day. Closed the Morrison deal, and my investment paid off big."
Bethany's fork paused halfway to her mouth. "Investment?"
"Just a little side project. Nothing you need to worry about."
But she was worrying. Because now she knew exactly what Derek's "side projects" involved, and tomorrow, Lennox would have all the proof they needed.
"That's wonderful, honey," she said. "I'm so proud of you."
The lie tasted like poison on her tongue, but it was the last lie she'd ever have to tell him.
Tomorrow, the game would begin.