Chapter 10
If you’re reading this, something has happened. Everything you need is attached. The password is Wizards. I know you were right about Mateo. I’m sorry I didn’t listen sooner.
I hadn’t attached anything. That would come later if needed, but I saved it as a draft, a digital dead man’s switch. I closed the laptop with more force than necessary. The snap of it echoed in the quiet room.
I glanced at the clock. Mateo left at this late hour to do something at the practice facility, or so he said.
Still, I didn’t fight him on it because I needed the time to take care of this business.
One task down. One to go. Standing, I headed to my bedroom and grabbed the essentials I had gathered— birth certificates, insurance cards, bank cards from my separate account, and cash.
The hallway was silent as I made my way to Mason’s bedroom.
He slept as I tiptoed over building blocks that were scattered across the floor from this evening’s playtime.
There was a half-finished drawing of what might be our family or might be dinosaurs.
It was hard to tell with a five-year-old artist sitting on his little table.
I crossed to the toy chest, lifting the lid slowly to minimize the creak.
Inside were the well-loved collection of action figures, toy cars, and stuffed animals piled in a soft mountain.
I dug through until I found what I was looking for—the ratty teddy bear that had been with Mason since he was an infant.
It wasn’t his favorite anymore but familiar enough that he’d notice if it disappeared completely.
“Sorry, Mr. Ratty Bear,” I whispered, turning the stuffed animal over in my hands.
I worked my finger along the seam of his back to pry open the velcro and removed some of the stuffing, creating the perfect hiding place.
I then carefully tucked everything inside Mr. Ratty Bear’s hollow middle.
My fingers worked quickly to press the velcro, closing him back up.
“There,” I said, giving the ratty bear a gentle pat before returning him to his spot in the toy chest, strategically placed so he looked untouched but wasn’t buried too deep. I arranged a few other toys around him for good measure.
As I closed the lid, a realization hit me. The USB drive —the original one in the safe that started all this, the one I’d found by accident last week when looking for our passports. It contained files that would be impossible to explain away as anything but damning.
“Shit,” I whispered. Anxiety flooded my system. How could I have forgotten about it? The smoking gun that made me look deeper in the first place. I needed to grab it and tuck it away in Mr. Ratty Bear with the other things.
I moved quickly, abandoning stealth for speed as I headed toward our bedroom. To grab the flash drive that could unravel everything Mateo had built—everything we’d built. The safe was built onto the wall of our walk-in closet, hidden behind my designer purses. Only Mateo and I knew about it.
My heart pounded as I realized a few of my bags had been knocked over.
I reached for the keypad with my fingers poised to input the code, but I stopped.
What was I doing? Creating insurance policies against my own husband?
Planning an escape route like I was in some kind of thriller movie?
The woman who gave up her career to stand by her man was now gathering evidence against him like a betrayal scrapbook.
But then I remembered the voice on that recording. The cold calculation in Mateo’s tone when he thought no one was listening, the look in his eyes, that split-second darkness when I casually mentioned Remi had reached out to me.
I steadied my fingers. The safe door was already cracked open an inch when I reached for it, and my stomach dropped to my feet like I’d just plummeted twenty floors in a broken elevator.
My fingers hovered above the handle, trembling slightly as I pulled it wider.
The usual stuff was there—passports, documents, the stack of emergency cash.
But the small black USB drive that was supposed to be tucked in the corner where I’d hidden it last week was gone…
just fucking gone. My breath caught in my throat.
I reached in as if it might have been overlooked rather than missing.
“Looking for something?”
The voice sliced through the silence, and I froze with my hand still inside the safe.
I didn’t need to turn around to know it was Mateo.
I’d recognize his voice anywhere, the deep timbre that once made me feel protected now sent ice through my veins.
I pulled my hand back slowly, trying to control the shaking.
My brain calculated at lightning speed. How long had he been standing there?
What exactly did he know? What about Mr. Ratty Bear?
I straightened my spine before facing him, schooling my features into what I hoped passed for confusion rather than panic.
“Hey, baby. Didn’t hear you come in. How’d it go with your coach?” My voice was surprisingly steady, considering my heart was trying to punch its way out of my chest.
Mateo leaned against the doorframe of our walk-in closet, wearing his practice gear—black shorts and a compression shirt that hugged his athletic frame.
His expression was neutral, almost bored, but his eyes were focused and sharp.
I’d seen that look before, but it was never directed at me.
It was the same cold calculation he had when sizing up an opponent on the court.
“Funny thing happened while you were at the gym. I went looking for our insurance papers, and I found something interesting instead,” he said casually, not moving from his position. His gaze drifted deliberately to the open safe then back to my face.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out the missing USB drive, holding it between his thumb and forefinger like a bug he’d caught. My stomach twisted into a knot.
“Want to tell me why my wife is keeping a file of evidence against me?” His voice was still eerily calm.
I could lie and make up some story about backing up family photos or financial records for taxes.
But the look in his eyes told me he’d already seen the contents and already knew exactly what I’d been doing.
Besides, I’d always been a terrible liar with him.
It was why I was so blindsided when I discovered he’d been lying to me for months.
“I think you know why,” I replied, finding a reserve of strength deep inside. PR crisis mode engaged automatically—never admit more than they already know. “The question is what exactly are you hiding, Mateo?”
A humorless smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “That’s not how this works, Dani.”
He pushed off from the doorframe and took two steps into the closet, closing the distance between us. He wasn’t touching me, but his presence filled the space, making breathing hard.
“You don’t get to play detective in my house, going through my things, building a case against me.”
“Your house? Last I checked, my name is on the deed too. And I gave up my whole damn career and a great salary to support yours, so don’t?—”
“Let’s not do this,” he interrupted. His voice dropped lower. It was his “reasonable” tone, which he used when trying to defuse a situation while still getting his way.
I stood straight and faced him.
“We both know what you’re doing, Danica. You’ve been talking to Remi Pearson.”
Hearing him say her name made my breath catch.
“She’s been filling your head with all kinds of theories.”
I took a small step back.
Mateo continued when I didn’t respond. He held up the USB drive again. “Instead of coming to your husband, you started digging. Started collecting… insurance. Did you think I wouldn’t notice?”
My lower back pressed against the edge of the safe. “Tell me then… what happened?—”
“It was an accident, a fucking accident on the court that happened to work out in my favor. End of story.” He cut in sharply.
But it wasn’t the end of the story, and we both knew it. The recordings on that drive told a different tale. The timing was all too perfect to be a coincidence.
“Then why hide anything?” I challenged. My fear morphed into frustration.
His eyes narrowed slightly. It was the only indication I’d struck a nerve.
“You don’t understand how this world works, Dani.
I didn’t push him. He leaned into the moment.
I got into his head, and he cracked. It’s about survival, not innocence.
Coach knew what he was doing when he gave me that ISO.
DeAndre’s contract demands pissed of the brass.
See, you think everything’s black and white because you lived in your little PR bubble where image is everything. The real world has gray areas.”
“Is that what we’re calling it now? Gray areas? A man’s career was derailed.” My voice rose despite my efforts to keep calm.
Mateo moved closer, and this time, he touched me. One hand rested lightly on my shoulder, the other still holding the incriminating USB drive. The gesture might have looked affectionate to anyone, but I felt the subtle pressure and warning in his grip.
“Listen to me carefully. Why would Remi give you the evidence instead of using it herself? Think about it. There’s a method to her madness. We’re in this together now. If you expose me, you lose everything too.”
I stared at him, trying to process his words. “What are you talking about?”
His thumb stroked along my collarbone in a gesture that would have once been intimate but now felt threatening.
“You think I don’t have records too? The money from our joint account you’ve been squirreling away bit by bit…
The fact that you’ve been researching divorce lawyers.
.. How you edited and posted all those social media updates that established my alibi…
” He paused, allowing each revelation to sink in.
My blood ran cold. He twisted things, making me sound complicit in whatever he did. The worst part was that he wasn’t entirely wrong. I did manage his social media presence, crafting the perfect image of a dedicated athlete focused on his family and career.
“That’s not the same thing, and you know it,” I replied, but my voice lacked conviction.
“Isn’t it? How do you think it would look to the police? To the league? To your precious friend Remi? My supportive wife suddenly claiming ignorance after years of helping build my career? After benefiting from every dollar of my success?”
He released my shoulder and stepped back, creating space between us again. The shift was disorienting. One moment, it was threatening then casual the next. It was as if we were having a routine conversation.
Mateo pocketed the USB drive. “What exactly would you tell them? That your husband had been involved in an accident that the league had already investigated and ruled exactly that—an accident? That you have recordings that prove… what? I’m ambitious? That I wanted to succeed?”
I watched him, this man I thought I knew inside and out, and realized I was looking at a stranger.
The Mateo I married was driven but decent, ambitious but fair.
This man in front of me calculated every move like a chess master, three steps ahead and willing to sacrifice anything, anyone, to protect his position.
“What happens now?” I asked quietly.
He shrugged, the gesture almost normal, almost like my husband again.
“Nothing changes. We go on as we have been. You keep playing the supportive wife. I keep providing for our family. Mason grows up with his parents in a beautiful home with every advantage, and you stop digging, stop talking to Remi, and accept that what’s done is done. ”
The mention of our son made my throat tighten. Mason, who idolized his father, didn’t know that Daddy’s sudden success might be built on something ugly and wrong.
“And if I don’t?” The question hung between us. It was dangerous but necessary.
Mateo’s expression softened in a more frightening way than his anger.
“Dani, don’t make this harder than it needs to be. I love you. I love our family. All of this—I did it for us so we could have the life we always talked about.” He gestured around at our expansive closet, the luxury items, the trappings of success.
“Don’t pretend this was for us,” I whispered, unable to bear his attempt to reframe his actions as sacrifices for our family.
“But it was, and now, we protect it… together. Because that’s what family does,” he insisted, and the terrifying part was he believed it.
Mateo stepped forward again, placing a gentle kiss on my forehead. “I have a meeting with sponsors in the morning. Then we’ll have a nice family dinner with just the three of us. Like normal.”
Mateo put the USB drive into the safe and closed the door. He turned to leave, pausing at the closet door.
“Oh, and, Dani? I changed the safe code. And I’d check Mr. Ratty Bear if I were you. He’s looking a little worn these days.”
The casual mention of my hiding spot made my knees weak.
He knew everything. As his footsteps receded down the hallway, I sank to the floor with my back against the wall.
The reality of my situation crushed down on me like a physical weight.
I was in isolation. Not just by the physical walls of this beautiful home we’d created, but by the invisible bonds of shared secrets and mutual destruction.
Mateo was right—I was implicated now whether I meant to be or not.
If his world burned, mine went up in flames too.
And somewhere in the middle of all this was Mason—innocent, loving, caught between two parents playing a game neither of us could afford to lose.
I pressed the heels of my hands against my eyes, fighting back tears that wouldn’t solve anything.
I needed to think. I needed a new plan. Because one thing was crystal clear as I sat on the floor of our designer closet surrounded by the symbols of our success.
The escape route I so carefully mapped out had just gone up in smoke, and I was back at square one.
Only now, the man I was running from knew I was trying to get away.