Daniel stood frozen in the harsh fluorescent light of the hospital corridor, staring at Vanessa as if she were a stranger. Her words hung in the sterile air, heavy and poisonous. You and I could finally stop hiding. He pulled his arm from her grip, the coldness of her touch lingering on his skin.

Driven out of the hospital, Daniel retreated to his empty suburban home. The house felt cavernous, heavy with the suffocating ghost of Claire’s presence. Her prenatal yoga mat was still rolled out in the corner of the living room. A half-knitted baby blanket sat on the sofa, needles still piercing the soft yarn.

His phone buzzed incessantly on the kitchen island.

It was Vanessa.

Daniel, please answer. We need to talk. This isn't our fault. Claire brought this on herself with her weak health.

Daniel stared at the screen, a nauseating wave of revulsion washing over him. For months, he had convinced himself that Vanessa was his escape from reality, his breath of fresh air. Now, seeing her words printed in cold black and white, he realized what she actually was: a parasite that had fed on his weakness and manipulated his marital insecurities.

He picked up the phone, tapped her contact card, and hit Block.

Then he went to his home office, opened his laptop, and logged into his corporate email. He needed to check his work status, but what he found waiting in his inbox made his stomach drop into his shoes.

An email from the executive committee of Wakefield & Vance Consulting, subject line: Urgent: Administrative Leave & Forensic Audit.

Dear Mr. Mercer,

Please be advised that effective immediately, you have been placed on indefinite administrative leave pending an internal investigation into potential misuse of corporate funds, client entertainment expense fraud, and violations of company ethics policies.

Daniel stared at the monitor, his vision blurring.

Forensic audit?

It didn't take a genius to figure out who had initiated it. Arthur Mercer didn't just prosecute criminals; he built airtight cases. In less than twelve hours, his brother-in-law had already frozen his corporate assets, notified his firm's compliance officer, and initiated an audit that would likely uncover every hotel receipt, every jeweler's bill, and every weekend getaway he had funded using corporate client accounts for Vanessa.

His phone rang again. A local number. Not Vanessa.

He answered with a trembling voice. "Hello?"

"Mr. Mercer? This is Detective Miller with the Raleigh Police Department's Financial Crimes Division. We’ve received a referral from federal prosecutor Arthur Mercer regarding corporate embezzlement and asset misappropriation. We need you to come down to the precinct for questioning tomorrow morning at 9:00 AM."