Chapter 3

On Saturday morning, Deborah stood in the doorway with her suitcase, lingering over the goodbye.

"Honey, I'll text you as soon as I land. Make sure you eat properly while I'm gone," she said.

She leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to my cheek. If I had not already known the truth, I might have believed it.

"Safe travels."

I watched her step into the elevator. The moment the doors closed, the smile dropped from my face.

Half an hour later, I opened the vehicle tracking app on my phone. Deborah's car wasn't headed to the airport. It had stopped outside a residential complex I knew well: Matthew's apartment building.

I stared at the red dot on the screen. It remained parked downstairs for ten minutes, then started moving again, this time straight toward the airport.

…

At 2:00 p.m., Deborah's message arrived right on schedule.

Deborah: [Honey, made it to the hotel. The view here is gorgeous. Wish you were with me so we could watch the ocean together.]

She sent a photo with the view from the hotel balcony. I zoomed in on the reflection in the sliding glass door. It was blurry, but clear enough. A man lay stretched out on a lounge chair on the balcony, shirtless, wearing board shorts.

I would recognize that build anywhere.

I did not call her out. I kept my reply short.

[Beautiful view. Get some rest. Call me tonight if you're free.]

…

At 8:00 p.m., I video called Deborah. She took a long time to answer. When she finally did, she wore a hotel bathrobe, her hair half-dry, a plain white wall behind her.

"Leonard, I just got out of the shower. Have you eaten?" Her eyes did not quite settle on the camera. They kept drifting slightly to the side.

"I have." I held her gaze. "Debbie, turn the camera around. Let me see the room. I've been thinking about booking the same place next time I'm in Sanyara."

Deborah's face stiffened. "The room's a mess. There's nothing worth seeing. I'll pull up some photos online for you when I'm back."

I gave her no room to deflect. "No. I want to see the actual room."

Then it came through the speaker. A clear, bright clink of glass from somewhere off camera. Then Matthew's low laugh. His voice barely rose above a murmur, but the quiet room made it carry.

"Quit it." Deborah slapped her hand over the microphone. Her face turned pale. "Leonard, something just came up. A client is calling me. I have to go."

She hung up before I could respond. I stared at the black screen and let out a slow, quiet laugh.

This was the woman I had loved for five years. This was the man I had called my friend. I opened the booking app and bought a late-night flight to Sanyara, departing in two hours.

Since they wanted excitement, I would give them some.

While I packed, I made sure to include two things in my bag: the engagement watch Deborah had given me, and the car key I had given Matthew for his birthday.

…

At 2:00 a.m., the plane touched down at Sanyara Phoenix International Airport.

The sea wind hit me as I stepped outside, damp and salty, and did nothing to ease the anger in my chest.

I took a cab straight to the five-star hotel where they were staying.

The front desk attendant looked up with faint surprise. After all, a man was checking in alone in the middle of the night.

"Sir, do you have a reservation?"

I gave her Deborah's ID number and full name. "I'm her fiancé. I'm here to surprise her. Could you look up her room number for me?"

The attendant checked her screen, and her expression changed.

"I'm sorry, sir. Miss Jones is indeed a guest here, but her reservation was made for two. And she left specific instructions that she..." She paused, choosing her words. "She asked not to be disturbed."

I let out a short, cold laugh.

I reached into my bag, pulled out a stack of hundred-dollar bills, and set them on the counter. "I understand how this works. All I need is the room number. Whatever happens after that is my responsibility."