Chapter 7 - The Betrayal Inside the House
Thomas survived.
But the bullet changed everything.
As he lay recovering in the hospital, Alex became increasingly distant.
He stopped sleeping.
Stopped eating.
He spent hours on the phone.
I knew something was wrong.
Finally I confronted him.
“You don't trust me anymore.”
He looked at me.
“That isn't true.”
“Then tell me what's happening.”
He hesitated.
“We found out someone inside my organization has been giving Martin information.”
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
“You suspect someone.”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
He didn't answer.
I walked away.
That evening, I received a message.
Come to the old pier alone if you want the truth about Alex.
I should have ignored it.
Instead, I went.
I arrived at the pier and found Elena waiting.
She looked frightened.
“You came.”
“What do you want?”
“The truth.”
“About what?”
“Alex.”
My heart tightened.
“What about him?”
Elena handed me a file.
Inside were photographs of Alex meeting Martin Shaw.
I stared.
“When were these taken?”
“Three weeks ago.”
“He's working with him?”
“I think so.”
I wanted to believe there was another explanation.
There had to be.
Then Elena showed me one final photo.
Alex handing Martin an envelope.
I felt sick.
“He betrayed us.”
Elena nodded.
“Or he wants you to think he did.”
I looked at her.
“What?”
She whispered.
“Alex is playing a long game.”
Suddenly headlights appeared.
Alex's car.
He stepped out.
“Nina.”
I backed away.
“You lied to me.”
“About what?”
I held up the photograph.
He went still.
“Who gave you that?”
“Does it matter?”
“Yes.”
“Were you meeting Martin?”
“Yes.”
The answer broke something inside me.
“Why?”
“Because I had to.”
“You could have told me.”
“I couldn't risk it.”
“Risk what?”
“Your life.”
I laughed bitterly.
“You keep saying that.”
Alex stepped closer.
“I made a deal with him.”
My heart stopped.
“What kind of deal?”
“I offered myself in exchange for information.”
“What information?”
“Where the final evidence is.”
“And where is it?”
He looked at me.
“You.”
I froze.
“The final evidence is inside your memory.”
I shook my head.
“I don't understand.”
“When you were nine, your father showed you a series of numbers.”
“I don't remember.”
“You drew them.”
I stared.
“What numbers?”
Alex handed me a childhood drawing.
I recognized it.
It was a picture of our house.
A red door.
A black car.
And a strange sequence of numbers along the bottom.
3-7-12-19.
I remembered.
“My father used to say those were stars.”
Alex nodded.
“They were account numbers.”
I felt dizzy.
“He taught me how to memorize them.”
“Yes.”
“The evidence is in my memory.”
“Yes.”
Martin didn't want the ledger.
He wanted me.
Because I was the key.
Suddenly everything clicked.
Alex had never been protecting me from the evidence.
He had been protecting the evidence from everyone.
Me.
I was the evidence.
Then Martin appeared.
He stepped from the shadows.
“Enough.”
Alex turned.
Martin smiled.
“You finally understand, Nina.”
Police sirens echoed in the distance.
Martin's men surrounded us.
Alex stepped in front of me.
“I told you I'd give you the ledger.”
“And you did.”
Martin held up the ledger.
“But I want the girl too.”
Alex's voice was cold.
“You don't get both.”
Martin laughed.
“That's the problem with men who fall in love.”
I looked at Alex.
He didn't deny it.
Martin ordered his men forward.
Alex moved.
Everything happened at once.
Thomas's men arrived.
Elena called the police.
Sariah appeared from the car carrying the evidence.
Chaos exploded across the pier.
Martin escaped.
But his final words stayed with me.
“You'll learn the truth about Alex soon enough.”
That night, Alex took me to the greenhouse.
He was exhausted.
“I owe you an apology.”
“For lying?”
“For making you believe I didn't love you.”
My throat tightened.
“You love me?”
“I have for two years.”
“Since when?”
“The first week you worked for me.”
I laughed softly.
“I thought you hated me.”
“I was afraid of what would happen if I didn't.”
I stepped closer.
“You could have told me.”
“I was trying to keep you alive.”
I touched his face.
“Maybe I get to decide whether you're worth the risk.”
He closed his eyes.
Then he kissed me.
Not like a dangerous man.
Not like a boss.
Like someone who had been waiting too long.
When we pulled apart, he whispered:
“I'm not going anywhere.”
May you like
Neither was I.
But Martin still had the final piece of the puzzle.
