Chapter 2: Vanessa

I ended up at Riverside Park, sitting on the same bench where Marcus had first told me he loved me six months ago. The irony wasn't lost on me.

My hands wouldn't stop shaking.

Around me, life continued as normal. Joggers passed by with their earbuds in, lost in their worlds. A mother pushed her toddler on the swings while he shrieked with delight. Normal people living normal lives, completely unaware that my entire world had just crumbled like a house of cards.

I tried to piece together the conversation I'd overheard, but it felt like trying to solve a puzzle with half the pieces missing. Who was the gray-haired man? What kind of business did they have together that involved "handling things quietly" and "loose ends"?

And what had I supposedly seen that made me dangerous?

My phone buzzed again. Another text from Marcus: *Please, baby. Just come home so we can talk.*

Then another: *I'm worried about you.*

And finally: *You're scaring me, Vanessa.*

I was scaring him? The laugh that escaped me sounded slightly hysterical.

But underneath the fear, something else was stirring. Anger. How dare he make me the villain in this scenario? How dare he act concerned when he was the one talking about making sure I wouldn't be a "problem"?

I thought about all the nights he'd come home late, claiming the bank was swamped with loan applications. All the times he'd stepped out to take "work calls" that couldn't wait. The way he'd started asking about my schedule, about which evenings I worked late at the daycare.

Had he been planning this conversation? Had he been waiting for the right moment to... what? Get rid of me?

My phone rang, startling me out of my spiraling thoughts. Marcus's name flashed across the screen, and for a moment, I almost answered. Almost fell back into the familiar pattern of trusting him, of believing whatever explanation he'd spin for me.

Instead, I declined the call and immediately dialed my best friend Sarah.

"Vanessa?" She picked up on the second ring, concern already evident in her voice. "Aren't you supposed to be at work?"

"Sarah, I need to ask you something, and I need you to be completely honest with me." My voice sounded steadier than I felt. "Have you ever thought there was something... off about Marcus?"

Silence stretched between us, long enough that I wondered if the call had dropped.

"Sarah?"

"Why are you asking?" Her voice was careful now, guarded in a way that made my stomach clench.

"Just... please. Have you?"

Another pause. Then: "Vanessa, where are you? You sound upset."

"I'm fine. I just—have you ever thought Marcus might not be what he seems?"

"Honey..." Sarah's voice was gentle, the way she talked to her daughter when she was upset. "I've always thought Marcus was charming. Almost too charming, if you know what I mean. And there's something about the way he looks at people sometimes. Like he's calculating something."

My free hand pressed against my chest, where my heart felt like it was trying to beat right out of my ribcage. "What do you mean?"

"It's probably nothing. I mean, I barely know the guy because he never comes to group hangouts. But the few times I've met him, there's this moment where his mask slips, just for a second, and I see something else underneath. Something harder."

I closed my eyes, remembering the look on Marcus's face when he thought I wasn't watching. The cold calculation in his expression when he was on certain phone calls.

"Vanessa, what's going on? You're scaring me."

Before I could answer, I saw a familiar figure walking toward me across the park. Tall, dark-haired, wearing the same expensive suit from this morning.

Marcus.

"I have to go," I whispered into the phone.

"Vanessa—"

I hung up and shoved the phone into my purse, my heart hammering as Marcus approached. How had he found me? Had he been following me this whole time?

He looked devastated, his hair mussed like he'd been running his hands through it, his tie loosened. If I hadn't heard that conversation this morning, I would have rushed to comfort him.

Now I stayed frozen on the bench as he sat down beside me, careful to leave space between us.

"We need to talk," he said quietly.

"Do we?" I was surprised by how steady my voice sounded. "Or do you need to 'handle' me quietly?"

His face went white. "You heard."

"I heard enough." I turned to face him fully, studying the man I thought I knew. "Who was that man, Marcus? What business do you do?"

For a moment, I thought he might lie. His mouth opened, then closed, and I could see him weighing his options.

Finally, he ran a hand over his face. "It's complicated."

"Try me."

"The bank... It's not just a bank, Vanessa. We provide certain financial services to clients who need discretion."

"What kind of clients?"

His jaw clenched. "The kind who pay very well for privacy."

"That's not an answer."

"It's the only answer I can give you right now."

The fear I'd been holding at bay all morning crashed over me like a wave. "Are you in danger? Are we in danger?"

"No." He reached for my hand, but I pulled away. The hurt that flashed across his face looked genuine, but how could I trust anything about him anymore? "Vanessa, I would never let anything happen to you. You have to know that."

"What I know is that some man was talking about 'loose ends' and you were promising to make sure I wouldn't be a problem. What exactly does that mean, Marcus?"

"It means I need to keep you safe. Even if that means..." He stopped, shaking his head. "It doesn't matter. What matters is that you're safe."

"Even if that means what?"

But he was already standing, backing away from the bench. "I can't do this here. It's not safe."

"Marcus—"

"Go stay with Sarah tonight," he said, his voice urgent now. "Don't come home. Not yet."

"You're scaring me."

"Good." His eyes were intense, almost desperate. "You should be scared. Just... trust me for a little longer. Can you do that?"

Before I could answer, his phone buzzed. He glanced at it, and his face went completely pale.

"I have to go," he said, already walking away. "Stay with Sarah. Promise me."

"Marcus, wait—"

But he was already jogging toward the parking lot, leaving me alone on the bench with more questions than answers.

And the terrible certainty that whatever was happening, it was far from over.