Chapter 4 - The Safe in the Study"The documents in the study safe," I continued, my voice cutting through the heavy silence like a razor blade, "weren't just copies of our marriage certificate, Ethan. They were the original transaction logs of every illegal transfer you made from the corporate development fund into your personal offshore accounts in the Caymans. The ones you thought were completely untraceable."
Ethan’s head whipped back toward me, panic finally breaking through his denial. "You... you had the combination? How did you get into the safe? I changed it last week!"
"You change it every Tuesday based on the last four digits of your mistress’s phone number," I replied smoothly. "Predictable, arrogant, and sloppy. Just like every business decision you've made for the past three years."
Marcus raised a hand, signaling to the two deputies. "Officers, please escort Mr. Sterling to the study. It’s time for him to open the safe voluntarily, or we execute the judicial warrant and take the door off its hinges."
"I am not going anywhere!" Ethan roared, lunging forward with a sudden burst of desperation.
He didn't aim for Marcus. He aimed for me.
His hand shot out, clawing toward my throat with the intent to silence me once and for all, just like he had done so many times behind closed doors when the world wasn't watching.
He never made contact.
Before Ethan could cross the two-foot gap, one of the deputies moved with lightning speed. A heavy hand gripped Ethan’s arm, twisting it behind his back with a sharp, sickening click of handcuffs locking into place. Ethan slammed face-first into the mahogany console table, his expensive watch shattering against the wood.
"Resistance to an officer of the court," the deputy announced coolly. "Add that to the charge sheet."
"Get off me! Do you know who I am?!" Ethan screamed, his face pressed against the polished wood, drool pooling on the surface as he thrashed helplessly. "Emily! Tell them to let me go! EMILY!"
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I walked over to the console table, looking down at him with the exact same expression he had given me the night before when he threw his coffee mug at my face.
"I told you, Ethan," I whispered, leaning in close so only he could hear. "The most dangerous person in the room is the one quietly collecting evidence."
