Chapter 3 - The Ticket With Her Name on It
Martha stared at Victor as if the words had arrived in another language.
“My name?”
“Yes.”
“Why would Richard buy me a plane ticket?”
“He wouldn’t.”
“Apparently he did.”
“He bought something in your name.”
The distinction mattered.
Martha understood immediately.
“Where is it going?”
“Toronto.”
“When?”
“Tonight.”
She felt cold.
“If he uses my identity to make it look like I left the country—”
“He can argue you fled when the financial investigation began.”
Evelyn, who had returned to the hotel after filing the first legal motions, looked up from her laptop.
“It’s worse than that.”
Neither Martha nor Victor liked the tone.
Evelyn continued.
“If Richard travels under his own name while a second passenger appears under Martha’s, airport records create a neat narrative. Husband and wife flee together after fraud is exposed.”
“But I won’t be on the plane.”
“The reservation still helps him.”
Victor said, “Unless someone else uses her documents.”
Martha’s hand moved to her purse.
Her wallet.
License.
Credit cards.
Everything was there.
Then she remembered.
“My passport.”
Victor looked at her.
“It was in the house.”
“Did the fire department recover it?”
“No.”
Martha closed her eyes.
Richard had gone home before the fire.
He could have taken it.
Evelyn stood.
“We notify authorities immediately that her passport may be stolen.”
Victor was already texting someone.
Martha leaned against the table.
Richard was not improvising.
He had prepared options.
Financial accounts in her name.
Witnesses who believed she was unstable.
A stolen passport.
A plane ticket.
He had spent years making sure that if his life collapsed, hers would take the impact.
Her phone rang.
Unknown number.
Victor reached for it.
Martha pulled back.
“It’s my phone.”
“It may be Richard.”
“That’s why I’m answering.”
She accepted the call.
“Hello?”
“Martha.”
Richard.
Victor held out his hand for the phone.
She shook her head and put the call on speaker.
“Where are you?”
Richard laughed softly.
“Still letting Romano make your decisions?”
“I’m at a hotel because you burned our house.”
“I didn’t burn anything.”
“You admitted it.”
“I said you didn’t understand.”
Victor remained silent.
Richard continued.
“Martha, I need you to listen. Romano is using you.”
“That would be ironic.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
“Victor Romano doesn’t help people. He owns them.”
Victor’s expression did not change.
Martha looked at him anyway.
Richard heard the silence.
“He’s there, isn’t he?”
“Yes.”
“Of course he is. Did he tell you how many people disappear after crossing him?”
Martha replied, “Did you tell Sofia that before or after you kissed her?”
The line went quiet.
“Come home,” Richard said.
“There is no home.”
“Then meet me.”
“No.”
“Martha.”
For years his voice saying her name in that tone had made her question herself.
Not now.
“You bought a plane ticket in my name.”
A pause.
Then Richard said, “Victor told you that.”
“The airline told us.”
Technically untrue.
She wanted to see how he reacted.
“He’s monitoring everything,” Richard said quickly. “Can’t you see? He wants to control the story.”
“Where’s my passport?”
Silence.
“Richard.”
“You left it somewhere.”
“Where?”
“How should I know?”
“Because you went into our house before it burned.”
His breath changed.
Barely.
But she heard it.
Richard recovered.
“Martha, I can explain everything if we meet.”
“Explain the forged signatures now.”
“You signed those documents.”
“I didn’t know what they were.”
“You never read anything.”
The cruelty came faster now.
“You signed whatever I put in front of you because you preferred not knowing how our life worked.”
Martha flinched.
Victor started toward the phone.
She stopped him with one raised finger.
“I trusted my husband.”
“That was your choice.”
The sentence landed cleanly.
Something inside her finally closed.
Not broke.
Closed.
A door.
A chapter.
A marriage.
“You’re right,” Martha said.
Richard went quiet.
“I chose to trust you. You chose what to do with that trust.”
“Martha—”
“And now I’m choosing differently.”
She ended the call.
Her hand shook.
Victor took the phone gently.
“Are you all right?”
“No.”
It was the easiest answer she had given in years.
“No, I’m furious. I’m embarrassed. I want to drive somewhere and throw something through his windshield.”
Evelyn said, “That last part should remain theoretical.”
Martha almost smiled.
Victor’s phone rang again.
He listened.
Then turned toward the windows.
“What?”
“Sofia left the townhouse.”
“Where is she going?”
“My house.”
Martha frowned.
“Your house?”
Victor looked at Marcus.
“Have security keep their distance. I want to know what she takes.”
“You’re letting her go inside?”
“She still lives there.”
“After what we found?”
“She doesn’t know what we found.”
Martha understood.
He wanted Sofia comfortable.
Unaware.
Victor turned to her.
“You should stay here.”
“No.”
“This has nothing to do with you.”
“My husband is sleeping with your wife while using my identity in a financial conspiracy that apparently started before our wedding.”
Victor considered.
“Fair point.”
They arrived at the Romano estate shortly after three.
Martha had seen houses like it only in magazines.
Gray stone.
Tall windows.
Black iron gates.
Yet there was nothing flashy about it.
The place looked old enough to have survived several versions of Chicago.
Victor’s security let them through.
Sofia’s car sat in the circular drive.
Victor entered without knocking.
Martha followed.
The foyer was silent.
A portrait of Victor and Sofia hung above a console table.
Martha looked at it.
Sofia wore white.
Victor stood behind her.
They looked happy.
Maybe they had been.
That was the terrible complication of long deceptions.
A lie could contain real moments.
Victor walked upstairs.
They heard drawers opening.
Sofia was in the bedroom packing.
She turned when Victor appeared.
Her face lost color.
Then she saw Martha.
Something colder replaced surprise.
“You brought her here?”
Victor entered.
“I live here.”
Sofia zipped a suitcase.
“For now.”
Martha felt Victor go still.
Sofia noticed.
She smiled faintly.
“You found something.”
Victor said nothing.
“Richard told me you’d start digging.”
Martha stepped forward.
“Richard says a lot of things.”
Sofia looked at her.
“You should know.”
The contempt surprised Martha.
“You’ve been sleeping with my husband.”
“Yes.”
No apology.
No shame.
Martha realized instantly that Sofia had never considered her relevant.
Not as a wife.
Not as a rival.
Not even as a person.
“You planned it?” Martha asked.
Sofia glanced at Victor.
“The affair?”
“Meeting him years ago.”
That got her.
Only for a second.
But Victor saw it too.
His voice dropped.
“Eight years ago, Sofia.”
She stopped packing.
Victor took out his phone and displayed the email.
Her face changed.
“Where did you get that?”
“That’s your question?”
“You went through my files?”
“They were Richard’s.”
Sofia sat slowly on the edge of the bed.
Then something unexpected happened.
She laughed.
Not happily.
Almost with relief.
“So that’s it.”
Victor’s expression hardened.
“That’s what?”
“You finally know enough to stop pretending.”
“I never pretended.”
“No. You believed.”
The words cut.
Martha saw them.
Victor asked, “Was our marriage ever real?”
Sofia looked at him for a long moment.
“Yes.”
Victor’s jaw tightened.
“That wasn’t the question.”
“It became real.”
“You approached me because Vale told you to.”
“Yes.”
Martha watched Victor absorb the answer.
Sofia continued.
“My father owed Thomas Vale money. More than he could ever repay. Vale owned our house, his business, everything. He offered to erase the debt if I helped him get close to your family.”
“So you married me.”
“No.”
Victor’s voice turned dangerously calm.
“You just said—”
“I met you because Vale ordered me to. I dated you because he wanted information. But I married you because I loved you.”
Victor laughed once.
It contained no humor.
“And Richard?”
Sofia looked away.
“That came later.”
“How much later?”
“Six weeks.”
Martha said, “Why?”
Sofia looked at her.
“Because loving Victor never changed the fact that I was trapped between men who considered loyalty a currency.”
Victor’s face hardened.
“Do not make yourself the victim.”
“I’m not.”
“Then explain.”
Sofia stood.
“Vale came back three months ago. Richard contacted me. He said Vale had documents proving what I did before our marriage. He said if Victor learned the truth, I’d lose everything.”
Victor stared.
“So your solution was to sleep with him?”
“At first, no.”
“At first?”
Sofia’s eyes flashed.
“Richard demanded information. Then access. Then money.”
Martha understood before Victor.
“He blackmailed you.”
Sofia’s laugh was bitter.
“Your husband discovered that threatening me was useful. He discovered other things were useful too.”
Martha’s disgust deepened.
“You could have told Victor.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Because I spent eight years afraid the only good thing in my life had begun with something unforgivable.”
Victor looked away.
For one second Martha almost felt sorry for Sofia.
Then she remembered the kiss.
The lack of remorse.
“You still chose to betray him.”
Sofia met her eyes.
“So did Richard.”
“We’re not discussing Richard.”
“You think you’re better than me because you were deceived instead of doing the deceiving.”
“No.”
Martha’s voice was calm.
“I think I’m different because when I was afraid, I didn’t destroy someone who loved me to protect myself.”
Sofia had no answer.
A phone buzzed inside her handbag.
She grabbed it too quickly.
Victor noticed.
“Who is it?”
“No one.”
He held out his hand.
“Give me the phone.”
“No.”
“Sofia.”
She backed toward the nightstand.
Then the bedroom window shattered.
Victor moved before Martha understood what happened.
He grabbed her and pulled her behind a heavy dresser.
Marcus shouted downstairs.
Another crack split the room.
Sofia screamed.
Glass fell across the carpet.
Someone outside had fired into the house.
Victor covered Martha with his body until the room went quiet.
Then security flooded upstairs.
Victor looked toward Sofia.
She was crouched beside the bed, bleeding from a cut on her cheek.
Her phone lay nearby.
The screen glowed.
A message was visible.
UNKNOWN: You talked too long.
Victor picked up the phone.
Sofia stared at him.
“Vale?”
“No.”
“Richard?”
Her silence answered.
Martha felt sick.
Richard had known Sofia was with Victor.
Richard had known Martha might be there.
And someone had fired into the room anyway.
Victor looked at Martha.
May you like
Whatever remained of his restraint disappeared.
“Your husband just made the worst mistake of his life.”
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