CHAPTER 21 Reid
Reid
Reid stared at his screen but all he could see was Maya.
He hadn't been able to stop looking at her hand.
She'd signed her name—their name, Lawson, her handwriting quick and practiced like she'd written it a thousand times, because she had—but her ring finger was bare.
She was still legally his wife. On paper, on the forms he'd brought her, nothing had changed.
But she wasn't in his house. She wasn't in his bed.
And she wasn't wearing his ring.
He had thought himself the one wronged. The betrayed husband, forced into something impossible.
He had never been the victim in this. Not for a single second.
He had been the one she needed protecting from.
The accounts were in her name but none of the identity documents were verified.
Reid rubbed a hand over his mouth.
He was incompetent. He should lose his fucking job.
He had humiliated his wife publicly. He had treated her like a criminal. He had looked at the woman who loved him and had been too much of an emotional mess to see the truth.
Reid looked down at his hands resting against the desk.
The same hands that had cuffed her.
His stomach twisted sharply.
The shame was overwhelming.
Reid stared at the screen. Rows and columns and timestamps and account numbers.
Maya Lawson.
He had thought it had been proof.
Verification status: pending.
Finally he had something the prosecutor couldn’t ignore.
Julian had the means and the opportunity. Now she could drop the charges against his wife and the department could go after the person who actually did this.
This was what he should have done in the first place.
He was supposed to be good at this. He was supposed to be one of the best analysts in the building.
If it had been any other name—any other suspect—he would have torn the paper trial apart in minutes. He would have flagged the missing verification immediately. He would have questioned the timeline, the access points, the feasibility.
He would have done his job.
But some part of him—some messed up, broken part—had seen Maya's name and had given up.
He’d told himself he was doing his job. He’d told himself that, over and over, as if that justified it.
He let out a harsh breath.
But his job wasn’t just the analysis, the reports, the clean, logical conclusions.
His real job—his most important job—was being her husband.
Believing her. Protecting her. Loving her.
And he’d been incompetent at that too.
He had betrayed his wife.
He was her husband. He was supposed to stand between her and anything that tried to harm her and say no.
Instead, he had been the harm.
He hadn’t trusted her. He had chosen a set of numbers over his own fucking wife. Over Maya.
Reid pressed his hand against his mouth, he felt physically sick.
She had trusted him. She had given him that place in her life without hesitation, without condition, as if it were obvious that he belonged there.
And he had proven that he didn’t.
He had taken something beautiful and made it ugly.
What kind of man did that?
Not a good one. Not even a decent one.
Reid closed his eyes. He wasn’t worthy of her.
He clenched his fists. That wasn’t new. He’d never been worthy of her.
That wasn’t what he should be concerned about right now.
Maya was suffering and he needed to make her safe, make her happy.
The prosecutor did not look impressed.
Reid stood on the other side of her desk with the file open between them, every page marked, tabbed, and cross-referenced until the evidence looked as obvious as he should have made it the first time.
“Julian Cross had administrator access,” he said. “The recovery email attached to the bank accounts trace back to him.”
The prosecutor closed the file. “What do you want me to do with this?” she asked.
“Drop the charges against Maya. Go after Cross.”
“I’m not doing that today.”
Reid stared at her. “You can’t ignore—”
“I’m not ignoring anything. This kind of uncertainty should have stopped us from charging her in the first place.
” She tapped the folder. “This creates reasonable doubt. It gives me another suspect. It gives me a reason to send this back for further investigation. If this had been in the original file, I would not have authorized charges when I did.”
Reid’s chest tightened.
“But the case is already charged,” she continued. “The complaint says Maya Lawson had access, authority, opportunity, and financial control over the accounts. That evidence has not disappeared because you found another person who also had access.”
“The accounts weren’t verified.”
“That helps her.”
“It destroys the theory.”
“It complicates the theory,” she said. “There’s a difference.”
Reid stared at her, rage and shame burning through him in equal measure.
“I need to be sure,” she said. “If I dismiss today and refile later, her defense attorney will say the state charged first and investigated second. They’ll be right. You have given me a mess, Agent Lawson.”
“The money is still in the shell accounts," Reid said. “Cross moved the money but he couldn't extract it without leaving a trail that pointed directly back to him. So he stopped."
The prosecutor pushed the folder back toward him.
Reid looked down at the file. He had gone into that room thinking his analysis would be enough.
He should have known better.
His analysis had been enough to destroy Maya.
Apparently it would take more than that to save her.
They weren’t reversing the charges but her bank account access was restored at least.
Reid pulled his phone from his pocket as he left her office, already dialing Maya. The call rang out.
I’m sorry.
I was wrong.
I destroyed your life.
None of it fit into something you left on a voicemail.
Reid hung up before the tone.
She was considering pleading guilty to something she hadn’t done. Because of him.
His hands came up, pressing hard against his head.
This wasn’t abstract. This wasn’t bad luck or circumstance or a system failing somewhere far away from him.
This was his fault. These were his actions.
He had stood on that stage and put his hands on her and taken her into custody like she was—
Reid let out a rough breath, something between a laugh and a choke.
His wife was weighing the possibility of prison against admitting to a crime she hadn’t committed.
His wife.
Maya, who had built something out of nothing. Maya, who had taught herself code compliance and accessibility practices. Who had taken broken systems and made them better. Who had chosen him of all people.
Reid dragged his hands down his face.
He loved her. He loved that she cared too much. He loved the stubborn set of her mouth when he told her to rest. He loved that she could be generous with everyone else and then steal the fries from his plate without apology.
She had built a life with him. A home. Something warm. Something real.
And he had taken that and turned it into—
This.
Reid let out another breath, sharper this time.
No. She wasn’t pleading guilty.
He knew how this system worked and he wouldn’t rest until her name was clean.
He would make sure that she never had to consider something like that again.
Or he would burn everything down trying.