Chapter 2: My Wife's Unusual Proposal
I stood in the dining room, staring at the photograph.
Camille didn't look particularly upset.
That frightened me more than if she had thrown the wineglass against the wall.
“How did you get that?””
She lifted her glass.
“That's your first question?””
“Camille, I asked you something.””
“And I heard you.””
She took a sip.
“I have people who can find things, Darius. You'd be surprised how much information is available when someone knows where to look.””
I pulled out a chair but didn't sit.
“How long have you known?””
“Long enough.””
“Why didn't you confront me?””
Camille laughed.
“Because I wanted to see how far you were willing to take it.””
I looked at the photograph again.
“It's not what you think.””
She slowly placed her glass on the table.
“Don't insult me.””
I rubbed my forehead.
“I made a mistake.””
“A mistake?””
“Yes.””
“Was she a mistake when you bought her that necklace?””
I froze.
Camille reached into a folder and removed another photograph.
Vanessa was standing outside a jewelry store.
The necklace was visible around her neck.
“Was she a mistake when you rented that apartment?””
I looked up.
“What apartment?””
Camille smiled.
“Exactly.””
She opened another document.
A bank transfer.
My company account.
$18,500.
The payment had been made to a property management company connected to Vanessa's apartment.
I stared at it.
“How did you get that?””
“Your accountant isn't nearly as loyal as you think.””
“Camille, this is a private business account.””
“And you're having an affair with money earned during our marriage. Did you expect me to ignore that?””
I pulled the chair out and sat down.
For the first time that evening, I felt genuinely afraid.
Not because she knew about Vanessa.
Because she had apparently been investigating me for weeks.
“Let's talk about what happens next,” I said.
Camille folded her hands.
“Gladly.””
I expected demands.
An apology.
Maybe divorce papers.
Instead, she slid a document across the table.
“What is this?””
“A proposal.””
I looked at the first page.
It was a financial settlement agreement.
The document outlined the division of our assets, including our primary residence, investment properties, and several business interests.
My name appeared beside a substantial financial obligation.
I flipped through the pages.
“Are you trying to divorce me?””
“Not exactly.””
“Then what do you want?””
Camille leaned forward.
“I want the affair to end.””
“Fine.””
“And I want Vanessa out of our lives permanently.””
I looked at her.
“What does permanently mean?””
“She disappears from your life.””
“Camille, I'm not going to hurt anyone.””
“I didn't ask you to.””
She pushed another page toward me.
It contained a proposed financial transfer.
Three million dollars.
The payment would be made to a holding company after the termination of the affair.
I stared at the figure.
“Why would I pay you three million dollars?””
“Because I know what you have done.””
“You're blackmailing me?””
“I'm protecting my future.””
I stood.
“I'm not signing this.””
Camille didn't move.
“Then we can do this the difficult way.””
“What difficult way?””
She closed the folder.
“Your business accounts can be examined. Your clients can learn about your personal behavior. Your employees can find out why company funds were used to support your mistress.””
I clenched my jaw.
“You're threatening to destroy everything I've built.””
“No, Darius.””
She smiled.
“I'm reminding you that everything you've built belongs to the life we created together.””
I walked away.
Behind me, she called out.
“Think about it. You have until Friday.””
I didn't sleep that night.
At 2:17 a.m., I sat in my home office with the lights off.
Rain tapped against the windows.
My phone was beside my laptop.
I had opened Vanessa's contact at least twenty times.
Each time, I started typing.
Each time, I stopped.
Finally, I called her.
She answered after the second ring.
“Darius?””
“I'm sorry.””
Silence.
“Did she confront you?””
“Yes.””
“What happened?””
I looked at the financial documents scattered across my desk.
“She knows everything.””
Vanessa exhaled.
“I knew it.””
“She's demanding money.””
“How much?””
“Three million.””
“What?””
“She wants a settlement.””
“Darius, that's insane.””
“I know.””
There was another silence.
Then Vanessa asked something I wasn't prepared to hear.
“Are you going to choose her?””
I closed my eyes.
“Vanessa…”
“Don't give me another complicated answer. I need to know whether I'm going to spend the rest of my life hiding.””
“I don't want to hide anymore.””
“Then what are you going to do?””
I stared at the framed photograph of my father on the desk.
He had once told me that a man could survive losing money, property, and even his reputation.
But he couldn't survive becoming someone he no longer recognized.
“I'm going to file for divorce.””
Vanessa didn't respond immediately.
Then she whispered, “Are you sure?””
“Yes.””
“Because I don't want to destroy another person's life just to make myself happy.””
I swallowed.
“I know.””
“Then be honest with me, Darius. All the way honest.””
I looked at the financial documents again.
“There is something else.””
“What?””
“I transferred company money to help pay for your apartment.””
“I know. You told me it was a business investment.””
“It wasn't.””
The silence that followed felt endless.
Finally, Vanessa spoke.
“So you lied to me too.””
I had no defense.
“Yes.””
She ended the call.
The following afternoon, I went to my attorney's office.
His name was Marcus Reed.
He had represented my company for almost a decade and was one of the few people I trusted completely.
When I explained Camille's demands, he removed his glasses.
“Let me get this straight. Your wife wants three million dollars, and she's threatening to expose your affair?””
“Yes.””
“Does she have evidence of the transfers?””
“Apparently.””
Marcus leaned back.
“Darius, there's something you need to understand. If those funds were improperly used, we need to address that immediately. You cannot let this become a financial crime disguised as a divorce settlement.””
“I understand.””
“Do you?””
He opened his laptop.
“Because I reviewed the preliminary documents you sent. There's something unusual.””
“What?””
“The holding company Camille wants you to pay.””
He turned the screen toward me.
I recognized the name.
It was a company registered in Delaware.
But I didn't recognize the listed manager.
Marcus clicked another page.
“It's controlled by a man named Leonard Cross.””
I frowned.
“Who is that?””
“That's what I want to know.””
He searched through several records.
Then he stopped.
“Darius, do you know a security contractor called Cross Protection Group?””
“No.””
Marcus turned the screen.
The company had several registered addresses, a handful of corporate subsidiaries, and a history of government security contracts.
But one detail stood out.
Its managing director was Leonard Cross.
The same man connected to Camille's holding company.
“Your wife has a financial relationship with a private security firm,” Marcus said.
I shook my head.
“That doesn't make sense.””
“Maybe not. But it deserves investigation.””
I took photographs of the documents.
“Find out everything you can.””
Marcus nodded.
“And Darius?””
I turned.
“Don't confront her until we know who you're dealing with.””
That evening, Camille came home carrying shopping bags.
She placed them on the kitchen island and removed a small jewelry box.
“I bought something.””
I glanced at it.
“Congratulations.””
She opened the box.
Inside was a diamond bracelet.
“Beautiful, isn't it?””
“Very.””
She studied my face.
“You seem distracted.””
“I have a lot on my mind.””
“Have you made a decision?””
“I'm not giving you three million dollars.””
Her smile disappeared.
“Then you leave me with no choice.””
“Camille, what exactly are you planning?””
She picked up her phone.
“Something you should have thought about before bringing another woman into our marriage.””
She walked upstairs.
I waited until I heard the bedroom door close.
Then I opened my email.
Marcus had sent an update.
The subject line read:
*URGENT — CAMILLE'S CONNECTION TO LEONARD CROSS.*
I opened the attachment.
The first page contained corporate ownership records.
The second showed a series of payments.
The third contained a photograph.
I enlarged it.
Camille was standing beside a black SUV outside an expensive restaurant.
A tall man stood next to her.
I recognized him immediately.
Not because I had met him.
Because I had seen his photograph in an old news article.
Leonard Cross had been investigated years earlier for running an illegal intimidation operation through several security businesses.
The investigation had gone nowhere.
I scrolled down.
There was another photograph.
This time, Camille was handing him an envelope.
Underneath it was a handwritten note from Marcus.
Darius, I think your wife is paying this man for something other than legal advice.
Before I could process it, my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
A man's voice spoke.
“Mr. Brooks?””
“Who's this?””
“Someone who thinks you should stop asking questions about Leonard Cross.””
My grip tightened.
“Who are you?””
The man ignored the question.
“Your wife has already made arrangements. You should accept her offer and walk away.””
“Arrangements for what?””
A brief pause.
Then he said something that made the blood drain from my face.
“Your mistress has been given a deadline.””
The call ended.
I immediately called Vanessa.
No answer.
I called again.
Still nothing.
Then I sent a message.
Call me. Right now. You're not safe.
Five minutes passed.
Then ten.
At 9:43 p.m., my phone lit up.
It was a photograph from Vanessa.
She was standing outside her apartment building.
A black SUV was parked across the street.
Her message contained only four words.
Darius, they're watching me.
I grabbed my keys.
I didn't bother changing my clothes.
I drove through Atlanta as if every traffic light were an obstacle between Vanessa and something terrible.
When I arrived, her apartment door was unlocked.
The living room lights were on.
A glass had been broken near the kitchen.
“Vanessa?””
No answer.
I walked into the bedroom.
Her suitcase was open.
Clothes were scattered across the bed.
Then I saw the envelope.
It was lying on her pillow.
Inside was a single sheet of paper.
You were given a chance to disappear.
Beneath the message was a photograph of Camille.
And next to Camille was Leonard Cross.
May you like
On the back, someone had written:
*MIDNIGHT. THE BROOKS RESIDENCE.*
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