THE TRIP

The email arrived on a Sunday morning, crisp and official. Company Conference: Seattle – November 12–16.

Nathan printed it out and waved it at her like a prize.

“Pack something nice,” he said. “We’ll stay a few extra days — just us. A new start.”

A new start.

The words made Alina’s stomach twist. She smiled anyway. “I can’t wait.”

He kissed her forehead, satisfied. He didn’t see the flicker of calculation in her eyes.

Because Alina wasn’t planning a new beginning with him — she was planning his end.

---

The days leading up to the trip were suffocating. Nathan hovered more than ever, checking her messages, asking questions about where she went, what she did, who she spoke to. He had begun sensing something — maybe a shift in her tone, or the faint return of defiance in her posture.

But Alina had mastered the art of invisibility. She softened her voice, made herself smaller, safer. The more control he thought he had, the less careful he became.

By Thursday night, she had everything ready — the USB drive with copies of the photos, the hidden phone, the second passport cover where she’d tucked her real ID and a few hundred dollars. She had also sent an anonymous tip to a detective she’d found online — a woman who specialized in domestic violence cases.

The email was simple:

 Subject: You’ll want to look at him.

 Nathan Clarke, CEO of Farlane Technologies. Folder on laptop named “Projects.”

 There are more women.

She didn’t sign her name. She didn’t have to.

---

They left early Friday morning. The drive to the airport was silent except for the rain pattering against the windshield. Nathan was in a good mood — too good. He played music, drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, talked about the meetings he’d lead, the people he’d impress.

Alina watched the city fade behind them. Every mile felt like a loosening chain.

At the airport, Nathan kept his hand on her back, guiding her like a possession. But he didn’t notice the way she lingered near security, scanning for cameras, exits, faces that looked kind. She memorized everything.

She could feel it now — the faint hum of freedom in her chest. Not yet, but soon.

---

At the hotel, Nathan was greeted like royalty. The staff knew his name, smiled too easily, carried their bags upstairs. The suite was elegant — gold accents, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. Alina stood by the glass, pretending to admire the view while her reflection stared back — steady, composed, ready.

Nathan wrapped his arms around her from behind.

“See? I told you. You and me. No more past.”

She forced a smile. “No more past.”

Inside, she whispered, No more you.

---

The next morning, he left early for the conference. The moment the door closed, Alina moved.

She searched the room, quietly, systematically. She knew his habits — he’d have his laptop, his phone, a second tablet for presentations. But she also knew he was careless when he felt untouchable.

In the bottom of his briefcase, beneath a layer of papers, she found a flash drive labeled Personal. She plugged it into her own laptop and took photos of the directory — more folders, more names.

She copied what she could, then placed everything exactly where it had been.

When she was done, she sat at the desk, heart pounding. The pieces were all there now — the files, the patterns, the proof.

All that remained was to make sure it reached the right hands.

---

That afternoon, she walked to a café a few blocks away. She told the doorman she was going shopping, smiling easily when he offered to call her a cab.

The air was cold and sharp. Every step outside the hotel felt like defiance.

At the café, she ordered tea and took out her hidden phone. She typed a short message to the detective’s anonymous inbox:

 Subject: Evidence attached

 Drive contains files connecting Nathan Clarke to multiple women. I’m sending copies from a public connection.

 Please act fast. I may not be safe much longer.

She attached the photos and pressed Send.

When the message disappeared into the ether, Alina felt something shift — not safety yet, but something close to power.

---

She stayed out for another hour, pretending to browse stores, memorizing the street layout. If she needed to run, she wanted to know exactly where to go.

When she returned, Nathan was sitting on the couch, a drink in his hand.

“You were gone a while,” he said.

Her throat tightened. “I went shopping. You said I could.”

He smiled. “I did.” His gaze swept over her. “You look beautiful when you’re nervous.”

She forced a laugh, pretending not to understand the threat beneath his tone.

“Come here,” he said softly.

And she did — slowly, carefully, the way one approaches a sleeping predator. She let him wrap his arm around her, listened to his heartbeat, steady and calm.

He didn’t know that, a few blocks away, the woman detective had already opened Alina’s email.

---

Later that night, when Nathan fell asleep, Alina stood by the window again. The city glittered below — a thousand tiny lights blinking in the dark. She imagined them as signals, each one whispering: Keep going. Don’t stop now.

She touched the USB drive hidden beneath the lining of her coat. It was still there, safe. Her pulse slowed.

Tomorrow would be the conference’s final day. Tomorrow, the detective would likely reach out. Tomorrow, everything could change.

But she knew one thing with certainty — Nathan’s perfect world was beginning to crack, and she was the one holding the hammer.