I sat in that coffee shop for hours after reading the files. The laptop was closed. I had copied the evidence to three USB drives hidden in different pockets of my purse but I couldn't move.
Around me, people lived their normal lives, worked on their laptops, laughed with friends, enjoyed time with their partners, and I sat there with proof that my husband had systematically destroyed my family and manipulated me for years.
My regular phone buzzed. Another text from Asher:
Hey! How's the coffee shop working out? Getting lots done?
I stared at the text. He had no idea, no clue that I'd just read every detail of his four year plan.
My phone buzzed again. Another text message from him:
Rysa? You okay? You've been gone a while. Where are you? Come home.
Home.
Like the penthouse was my home, like anywhere with him could be my home. It made me want to scream. But I texted back:
Sorry! Lost track of time. Design problems. Heading back now.
