Chapter 59
I look like a panda. A sad, pink-pajama-wearing panda.
I have dark circles under my eyes that no amount of concealer can hide.
I can't sleep!
Every time I close my eyes, it's like a Spotify playlist of nightmares on shuffle.
Track 1: Eli whispering "Your husband." Track 2: The Unknown Number sending files of dead people. Track 3: Gabriel asking "Why were you spying?"
It is too loud! My brain is screaming!
And Gabby... huhu, is he a wizard? Is he a psychic? How did he know I was spying? Is he really that smart? Or does he have cameras in my hair clips?!
I tried to spy again (just a little!). I checked his pockets when he was showering. I checked his briefcase.
Nothing. Just mints and pens.
Maybe he really is innocent, I told the ceiling at 3 AM. Maybe Eli is confused. Maybe the Unknown Number is a troll.
But the doubt... it's like a pebble in my shoe. It hurts to walk.
★
Gabriel went to a golf meeting. He kissed me goodbye on the forehead, smelling like expensive cologne and morning coffee, and told me to rest.
"Be good, Aleesha," he said, his voice low and rumbly. "Do not overexert yourself."
"I will be a potato!" I promised, smiling my best fake smile.
I watched through the window as the black Aston Martin roared down the long driveway and disappeared behind the iron gates.
As soon as the car was gone, the smile dropped from my face.
"Sorry, Gabby," I whispered. "But the potato has a mission."
I ran upstairs and changed. I put on my "incognito spy outfit," which was a pastel pink hoodie, pink leggings, and my sturdy white sneakers. I grabbed my backpack.
I opened my Uber app.
"Ugh!" I groaned, tapping the screen. "Stupid privacy shield! Stupid rich people estate in the middle of nowhere!"
I couldn't get a signal here. The GPS literally thought I was in the Bermuda Triangle.
I looked at the dense forest surrounding the mansion.
"Okay," I huffed, tightening my backpack straps. "I have to walk. To the main road. Like a peasant! Or a hobbit!"
I slipped out the back door, avoiding the guards who were patrolling the front.
I entered the deep forest.
Crunch. Crunch.
It was scary! The trees were tall and dark, and the birds were making weird noises.
"It's okay, Aleesha," I told myself, pushing a branch out of my face. "You are a warrior. You wield chairs. You can handle a few trees."
I walked. And walked. And walked!
One hour passed. My legs started to burn. Two hours passed. I was sweaty and thirsty and there was a twig in my hair. Huhu! Why is our driveway so long?! Does he need a passport just to check the mail?!
Finally, after what felt like an eternity of trekking through the wilderness like a pink explorer, I saw it.
Asphalt! A street sign! Civilization!
I stumbled onto the main road, panting heavily. I wiped the sweat from my forehead. I pulled out my phone. I booked an Uber.
I needed to see Eli. I needed to tell him he is wrong so I can move on with my life!
The Uber driver was nice. He played rock music. I stared out the window, rehearsing my speech.
We arrived. The old brick building loomed over me.
I marched to the reception.
"I am here to see Elijah Martinez!" I announced.
The nurse looked up. She recognized me from the water bottle duty.
"Oh, Miss Garcia. The volunteer. He's in the garden."
"Thank you!"
I ran to the garden.
Eli was sitting on a bench, looking at a butterfly. He looked peaceful. Until he saw me.
"Isha?" He stood up. "You came back."
"Yes!" I marched up to him. I put my hands on my hips.
"Eli! We need to talk! You are wrong!"
Eli blinked. "Wrong?"
"About Gabby! About my husband!" I took a deep breath. "I investigated! I checked! He is a Logistician! He moves wine and ceramics! He orders soup for me when I have cramps! He is good!"
I stepped closer, my eyes pleading.
"Please, Eli. You have to believe me. He didn't do it. Maybe... maybe you saw someone who looked like him? Or maybe it was a bad dream?"
Eli looked at me. His shoulders slumped. The sadness in his eyes was so deep it looked like the ocean.
"Isha," he whispered.
"He is innocent!" I insisted, my voice cracking. "There is no evidence! No guns! No bodies! Just boxes! Please... just tell me you made a mistake. Please."
I was about to cry. Huhu. I just wanted him to say it was a mistake so the nightmare would end!
Eli reached out. He gently wiped a tear that had escaped my eye. His thumb was cool against my skin.
"It is hard to believe the truth," he said softly. "Especially when you love the lie."
"It's not a lie!" I shook my head vigorously.
"I wish it was," Eli said. "I wish I could tell you I am crazy. I wish I could tell you I made it up."
He looked me dead in the eye.
"But I saw him. I saw his face. I saw the gun in his hand. I saw my mother fall. There is no reason for me to accuse him, Isha. He is powerful. I am nothing. Accusing him only puts me in danger. But I do it because it is the truth."
I stared at him.
He wasn't lying. I could feel it. He wasn't malicious. He was just... broken.
"I..." I choked on a sob. "I don't know what to do, Eli. I feel guilty! I feel sad for you! But I can't just accuse my husband! He loves me!"
"Does he?" Eli asked quietly. "Or does he love that you don't ask questions?"
That hit me hard.
I backed away.
"I... I have to go."
I turned on my heel, desperate to escape the crushing weight of his sadness.
But before I could take a step, Eli moved.
His hand shot out and grabbed my wrist. His grip wasn't hard, but it was desperate. It anchored me to the spot.
"Aleesha, wait."
He stood up, towering over me even in his hospital pajamas. He stepped close, invading my personal space in a way he never had before.
He reached up with his other hand.
His fingers were cold as ice as they touched my cheek. He caressed my skin gently, his thumb brushing away a fresh tear that had escaped. The gesture was so tender, so heartbreakingly intimate, it made me freeze.
He looked deep into my eyes. His own brown eyes were swirling with pain and a terrifying kind of certainty.
"Don't let love blind you, Isha," he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. "Love is beautiful. But in your world... in his world... love is just a blindfold they use before the execution."
He leaned closer, his forehead almost touching mine.
"Open your eyes," he pleaded. "Before it's too late."
I stared at him, my heart pounding against my ribs like a trapped bird.
I pulled my wrist free from his grip.
"I... I can't," I choked out.
I turned and ran. I ran away from the garden. I ran away from his cold touch. I ran away from the truth (or the lie?).
★
I got home before Gabriel.
My heart was heavy. My head hurt.
I need to know. I need to know for sure.
Spying on the outside didn't work. I need to see the inside. The locked drawers. The secret files in his study.
But he never leaves the study unlocked when he is there. And when he is gone, it is locked tight.
I need him in the study, but not watching me.
I went to the kitchen. I made coffee. Black. Dark roast.
Then... I did something bad. Very bad.
I went to my medicine cabinet. I took two of my melatonin capsules (the strong ones for when the insomnia is bad). I opened them and poured the white powder into the coffee.
I stirred it. Swish. Swish.
"I am sorry, Gabby," I whispered to the cup. "I am sorry! I am a criminal wife! I am drugging you! But it's for love! And justice!"
Gabriel came home later. He went straight to his study to work on some contracts.
I walked in.
"Coffee!" I chirped, placing the cup on his desk.
"Thank you, Aleesha," he murmured, not looking up from his papers.
He took a sip. Then a big gulp.
I stood there, wringing my hands.
"Are you okay?" he asked, glancing at me.
"Yes! Just... tired!" I lied.
Ten minutes later.
Gabriel stopped typing. He rubbed his eyes. He blinked slowly.
"I feel... unusually fatigued," he muttered.
He leaned back in his leather chair. His eyes drifted shut.
"Just... a moment..."
His head lulled to the side. His breathing deepened.
He was asleep.
I burst into tears.
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" I sobbed quietly, rushing to his side. "You are just sleeping! It's vitamins! Kind of!"
I poked his cheek. Squish.
He didn't move.
I wiped my eyes and started rummaging.
I opened the top drawer. Pens. Stapler. Mints.
Second drawer. Shipping manifests. Tax forms (boring!). Contracts for "Port Authority".
I checked the bookshelf. Behind the books. Nothing.
I checked the safe (it was open because he was working!). Passports. Cash. Deeds to houses.
I went through everything. Every folder. Every file.
No "Murder List." No "Eli's Parents Execution Order." No pictures of dead bodies.
Just... logistics.
I collapsed onto the floor next to his chair. I sat on the rug, looking up at his sleeping face.
"See?" I whispered, sniffing. "He is innocent. There is nothing here. Eli is wrong. The Unknown Number is wrong."
I felt a massive wave of relief... mixed with terrible guilt.
I drugged my innocent husband! I violated his privacy! I am the worst!
I stood up and leaned over him. I smoothed his hair.
"I am so sorry, Gabby," I whispered, kissing his forehead. "I will never doubt you again. I will be the best wife. I will bake you a cake every day. I trust you."
RIIIIIIING.
A phone rang.
It wasn't my phone.
It was Gabriel's private phone. The black one he keeps in his jacket pocket.
I froze.
It was loud in the quiet room.
RIIIIIIING.
Gabriel stirred slightly but didn't wake up. The powder was working.
I looked at the phone sticking out of his pocket.
The screen lit up.
My heart stopped.
Is it The Unknown Number? The one sending me files?
Or is it... the answer to my questions?
My hand reached out. Trembling.
I shouldn't answer. It's his private phone.
RIIIIIIING.
But what if it's the police? Or the mafia? Or Eli's captors?
I pulled the phone out.
I swiped Answer.
I put it to my ear. I didn't say anything. I just held my breath.
"Hello?"
A voice spoke.
It wasn't a scary man with a voice modulator. It wasn't Eli. It wasn't a police officer.
It was a girl.
Her voice was husky. Sultry. Confident. The kind of voice that belongs to a woman wearing red lipstick and expensive perfume.
"Hey, Gab," she purred.
My blood turned to ice.
She called him Gab. Not Don Gabriel. Not Mr. Muratori. Not Boss.
Gab.
"Thanks for last night," the woman said, her voice dripping with satisfaction. "I really enjoyed it. You were... amazing."
...
...
My body froze. My hand went numb. The phone slipped from my fingers and landed on the desk with a soft thud.
Thanks for last night. I really enjoyed it.
Last night?
Last night... Gabriel said he had a "late meeting." He came home at 2 AM. He showered immediately.
He said it was business.
I looked at his sleeping face. The face I just kissed. The face I just convinced myself was innocent of murder.
Eli said he was a killer.
But this woman...
She says he is a cheater.
The room spun.
I didn't care about the murders anymore. I didn't care about logistics.
My heart shattered into a million dust particles.
He didn't kill anyone.
He just... betrayed me.