Chapter 3 - “Fine.”
“I’m choosing.”
“Of course you are.”
The corner of her mouth lifted.
Ten minutes had become thirty.
Then Marisol knocked.
Sophia looked tired now.
Genuinely tired.
I stood.
“Can I come tomorrow?”
She looked at me.
“I don’t know.”
The answer hurt.
I forced myself to nod.
“Okay.”
“But you can call the nurses’ desk.”
“Okay.”
“And Dom?”
“Yes?”
She looked at me for a long moment.
“Don’t confront Mateo tonight.”
Every instinct screamed against that.
“I won’t.”
“Promise.”
I hated promises made while angry.
Maybe because I knew exactly how easily men like me found ways around them.
So I chose precise words.
“I will not confront, threaten, punish, or contact Mateo until Daniel finishes an initial review.”
Sophia stared.
“That was aggressively specific.”
“Contract language.”
“You need help.”
“Probably.”
She smiled.
Then became serious.
“What about the divorce?”
I looked toward the floor.
“I don’t know.”
That surprised her.
“Four months ago, I would have said those were the three worst words a man could say.”
“And now?”
“Now I think they might be the first honest ones.”
Her eyes filled.
I wanted to kiss her.
Didn’t.
Instead, I said, “Happy anniversary.”
She laughed softly through tears.
“Worst anniversary ever.”
“By a significant margin.”
Then I left.
Outside the hospital, snow had begun falling.
Mateo was gone.
Exactly where I’d sent him.
My office.
Waiting.
I did not go there.
I called Daniel Cho.
He answered with obvious annoyance.
“Do you know what time it is?”
“Yes.”
“Then why—”
“I need you to investigate Mateo Bell.”
Silence.
Daniel’s tone changed.
“For what?”
“Everything connected to Harbor Relief, my legal files, communications from Sophia, and Bell Maritime Consulting.”
Another silence.
“Does Mateo know?”
“No.”
“Keep it that way.”
I looked back at the hospital.
“And Daniel?”
“Yes?”
“If you find something I won’t like…”
“That’s usually when you call me.”
“No.”
I watched snow settle against the hospital windows.
“Don’t clean it up before you show me.”
Daniel was quiet.
Then said:
“Understood.”
The investigation took eleven days.
The longest eleven days of my life.
Sophia allowed me to visit four times.
Not every day.
I hated that.
I respected it.
The first visit, we talked about her treatment.
The second, Harbor Relief.
The third, nothing important.
We watched a terrible cooking show while she received medication through an IV.
At one point she laughed so hard she had to hold her side.
I realized I had not heard that sound in four months.
I went home afterward and cried in the dark like a man who had forgotten he was allowed.
On the fourth visit, Sophia asked about the house.
“Your clothes are still there.”
“That is slightly creepy.”
“I know.”
“My plants?”
“Mrs. Rossi watered them.”
“My rosemary?”
“Dead.”
She stared.
“I trusted you with one herb.”
“I run shipping companies.”
“And apparently lose fights with rosemary.”
“Apparently.”
We smiled.
Then she asked, “My ring?”
I knew what she meant.
The engagement ring she left beside our bed.
“In the drawer.”
“You didn’t move it?”
“I put it in the drawer.”
“So you moved it.”
I sighed.
“Technically.”
“Control issues.”
“Significant.”
She laughed.
Progress arrived in ridiculous forms.
On the twelfth day, Daniel came to my office.
He placed three folders on the desk.
No dramatic expression.
No warning.
I appreciated that.
“What did you find?”
“Mateo redirected $312,000 from Harbor Relief over thirty-one months.”
“Confirmed?”
“Yes.”
“Personal profit?”
“No evidence.”
“Gabriel?”
“His company coordinated medical payments.”
“Fraud?”
“Yes.”
I frowned.
“Even if treatments were real?”
“False invoices are false invoices.”
Fair.
“What else?”
Daniel opened the second folder.
“Mateo intercepted four calls from Sophia.”
“Four?”
“Yes.”
“She said three.”
“He answered three himself. A fourth was redirected through your security office.”
My jaw tightened.
“The voicemail?”
“Deleted from your mailbox twelve minutes after it arrived.”
I stared.
“By who?”
Daniel looked directly at me.
“Mateo’s credentials.”
There it was.
Not assumption.
Evidence.
I looked toward the window.
“What did she say?”
Daniel slid his phone across the desk.
“We recovered a copy from the phone provider archive.”
I pressed play.
Sophia’s voice filled the office.
Weak.
Quiet.
Terrified.
“Dom, it’s me. Please don’t hang up if someone gives you this. I’m safe. I’m sick, but I’m safe. Mateo knows more than he’s telling you. Please don’t believe photographs without asking where they came from. I love you. I’m sorry. Please call Marisol at Mercy General.”
The recording ended.
I sat motionless.
She told me everything.
Enough, anyway.
And Mateo erased it.
My hands curled.
Daniel saw.
“Don’t.”
I looked at him.
“I didn’t do anything.”
“You’re thinking loudly.”
I hated that everyone in my life had started saying versions of Sophia’s lines.
“What else?”
Daniel opened the third folder.
“The divorce draft came from your attorney’s template library.”
“I know.”
“Mateo downloaded it.”
“Anything else?”
“Yes.”
His expression changed slightly.
This was the part I wouldn’t like.
“What?”
“The photographs.”
I waited.
“The medical clinic image was real.”
“I know.”
“The hotel image was not.”
I went still.
“What?”
“It was composited.”
My stomach turned.
“Sophia was at the rehabilitation residence.”
“Yes.”
“Julian was there.”
“Yes.”
“But the image showing them together?”
“Two separate security stills combined into one frame.”
I leaned back.
Mateo hadn’t merely offered misleading context.
He created evidence.
“Why?”
Daniel slid another document over.
A statement.
Signed by Gabriel Bell.
I stared.
“Gabriel talked?”
“Through counsel.”
“What did he say?”
“Mateo believed you would discover Harbor Relief eventually. When Sophia found the false invoices, he panicked.”
“Because I’d shut it down.”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“He thought if Sophia disappeared from your personal life, you would stop paying attention to her charity.”
I almost laughed.
“So he destroyed my marriage to save the charity?”
“According to Gabriel, Mateo told himself he was protecting the families.”
I looked down.
There it was.
The most dangerous sentence people tell themselves.
I was protecting someone.
Sophia had disappeared to protect evidence.
Mateo had lied to protect families.
I had dismissed Sophia to protect trust in my organization.
Everyone protecting.
Nobody speaking.
“What does Gabriel want?”
“Immunity from civil action in exchange for full restitution records.”
“Can we offer that?”
“You shouldn’t decide.”
I looked at him.
Daniel raised an eyebrow.
“You hired me because you’re not impartial.”
Damn Sophia.
“Fine.”
I stood.
“Where is Mateo?”
“At home.”
“Does he know what we found?”
“He knows we’re reviewing records.”
“I want to talk to him.”
Daniel sighed.
“Of course you do.”
“With you present.”
That surprised him.
Then he nodded.
“Tomorrow.”
“No.”
“Dominic.”
I took a breath.
Old instinct.
Immediate action.
Never hesitate.
I sat again.
“Tomorrow.”
That evening, I called Sophia.
“How bad?”
She asked before hello.
I looked at Daniel’s folders.
“Bad.”
“Did he take money personally?”
“No.”
“Did he intercept me?”
“Yes.”
Silence.
“The voicemail?”
“Deleted.”
Sophia exhaled slowly.
“And the photo?”
“Fake.”
Another silence.
“Dom.”
“Yes?”
“Are you okay?”
The question nearly destroyed me.
My wife had been sick, isolated, frightened, manipulated.
And she was asking about me.
“No.”
“Good.”
I almost laughed.
“What?”
“Maybe don’t pretend.”
Fair.
“I want to hate him.”
“I know.”
“He erased your voice.”
“I know.”
“He made me believe—”
“I know.”
I stopped.
Then whispered, “How do I forgive that?”
Sophia was quiet.
“You don’t have to.”
That surprised me.
“I thought you’d tell me to.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because forgiveness isn’t a court order.”
Her voice softened.
“You can hold someone accountable without destroying them. You can also decide you never trust them again.”
I looked at the folders.
“What would you do?”
“No.”
“What?”
“Don’t ask me to choose for you.”
“Sophia.”
“He was your friend.”
“He hurt you.”
“Yes.”
“And you think that doesn’t give you a vote?”
“It gives me a boundary.”
“What boundary?”
“I will not have him near Harbor Relief again.”
“Done.”
“I will not be alone with him.”
“Done.”
“If we stay married, he does not have access to our home, phones, legal affairs, or security.”
I closed my eyes at the phrase if we stay married.
“Done.”
“But what kind of relationship you have with him after accountability is your decision.”
I swallowed.
“You really think I might have a relationship with him after this?”
“I think fifteen years doesn’t disappear because a person does something terrible.”
She paused.
“That doesn’t mean fifteen years earns another chance either.”
There it was.
No instructions.
Just reality.
The next morning, Mateo sat across from me in Daniel’s conference room.
No guards.
No men standing behind me.
Just three chairs.
One table.
A box of tissues nobody used.
Mateo looked older than he had two weeks earlier.
He saw the folders.
Then looked at me.
“You know.”
“Yes.”
He nodded.
No denial.
No performance.
That angered me more.
“Why?”
He looked down.
“Which part?”
I almost stood.
Daniel said my name once.
“Dominic.”
May you like
I stayed seated.
“All of it.”
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