Page 21 of Mr. and Mrs. Novak

A curse flies from the other end of the line.

"Are you finally gonna tell me why you need these photos?"

"No. Just do what I’m asking."

My voice is harsher than I intended, but this is between Sophia and me.

"And what happened to 'please' and 'thank you'?" he quips.

"Good night, Nicolas."

I hang up and stare into the darkness, phone still clenched in my hand. The air is heavy, almost suffocating, and a quiet tension coils in my chest. I hope I never have to use these photos, but hope is a luxury I can’t afford.

If Sophia brings up Stanford again, if she digs too deep, I’ll have to play my last card. The thought leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. I know exactly what effect it will have on her. Devastating.

Can I bear to watch her break all over again? I’m not sure. I tilt my head back, staring at the stars, taking a slow breath.

How far am I willing to go? The question lingers, gnaws at me.

My first doubts about Stanislas surfaced a few months ago when Nicolas stumbled upon an article about a police raid at Stanford’s offices. Officially, they found nothing. But that news suddenly shattered my blinders. I started noticing the little comments that had been whispered to me for years, the veiled warnings I had chosen to ignore.

"With Stanford, it’s best not to dig too deep into how he handles his business."

"Some questions just shouldn’t be asked."

Whispers that now took on a far more ominous meaning.

So I really started watching him. His bodyguards were nothing like the polished professionals you usually see. These were hardened men, the kind you’d picture more easily in a dark alley than in a boardroom. And then there was that conversation I overheard. Stanford’s voice, cold and sharp like a blade, uttering death threats while his men stood in silence, heads lowered.

That’s when I truly understood.

My disdain for Stanford had blinded me, kept me from seeing him for what he really was. A mistake that could cost us dearly. Without realizing it, we had gotten involved with more than just a ruthless businessman. We had let the wolf into the fold.

And then I received a file by mistake.

"I got this yesterday," I said, placing the file on my desk.

Nicolas and Akim leaned over it. A heavy silence settled as they took in the surveillance photos of Martin Chen, his detailed schedule, his gym hours. And most importantly, that 50,000 euros transfer to "SK Security Consulting."

"Jesus fucking Christ," Nicolas muttered. "Three weeks before his accident?"

"Exactly. Stanford has been playing us from the start. These documents prove he planned everything."

Akim collapsed into his chair, looking pale.

"He made us believe that Chen was trying to take us down, that he had evidence..."

"And like idiots, we believed him," I added bitterly. "We even celebrated when Chen’s company went under after his death."

Nicolas started pacing.

"How did you get this?"

"His assistant sent it to me by mistake."

Suddenly, my phone buzzed. Unknown number.

"Ruslan, my dear friend," a silky voice began. "I hope I’m not disturbing you."