There was a pause, one of those that says we’re choosing our words carefully because this could get dangerous.

“Mrs. Bennett,” Maya said, “this involves information your husband provided. It could affect your financial security and your legal liability.”

My throat closed up. “Is Logan in trouble?”

“I’m not saying that,” he replied. “I’m saying she needs to come. Alone.”

I looked back at Logan. He was smiling as he read a message on his phone, his shoulders relaxed, completely unaware that my world had just tilted.

“Okay,” I said, barely able to breathe. “What time?”

“At 8:30 in the morning,” Maya said. “Ask for me directly. And, Mrs. Bennett… if your husband insists on accompanying you, tell him the appointment has been rescheduled.”

I hung up slowly.

Logan looked up. “Everything alright?”

I swallowed, forcing my face to appear neutral. “Yes,” I lied. “I just…work.”

He shrugged, unconcerned. “Good. Because tomorrow we’re finally getting out of here.”

I nodded and closed the suitcase.

But my hands were trembling.

Because, whatever the bank had found, they had made one thing very clear to me:

Logan must not find out.

I didn’t sleep.

Logan fell asleep immediately, one arm draped over my side as if he owned me.

I lay rigid beside him, staring at the ceiling and listening to the click of the air vent. Every time his phone vibrated with a nighttime notification, my stomach clenched.

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