Chapter 8 - The Husband Who Found Her
Daniel stood near the bakery entrance, holding Emily’s handbag by its torn strap.
For several seconds, neither of them moved.
Customers continued choosing bread and coffee, unaware that the air between the married couple had become dangerously thin.
Daniel walked toward her.
“You left this at the library.”
Emily tightened her fingers around the prepaid phone hidden behind her leg.
“How did you know I was there?”
Daniel stopped beside the table.
“A man called me.”
“The man in the gray coat?”
His jaw hardened.
“So you met him.”
“He said you sent him.”
“I didn’t.”
Emily studied his face, searching for the familiar signs of dishonesty. Daniel had always rubbed his thumb against his wedding ring when nervous. He was doing it now.
Claire’s voice whispered through the phone.
“Do not trust anything he says.”
Daniel glanced toward Emily’s hidden hand.
“Who are you talking to?”
“No one.”
“Give me the phone.”
His tone was quiet, but it carried the same authority Emily had heard from senior surgeons during emergencies.
Not a request.
An order.
She stepped backward.
“Tell me what happened in Operating Room 6.”
The color drained from Daniel’s face.
He looked around the bakery, then lowered his voice.
“Where did you hear that?”
“Answer me.”
“This isn’t the place.”
“Then where is the place, Daniel? Our bedroom with the camera hidden inside the alarm clock?”
For the first time, Daniel looked genuinely shocked.
“You found the cameras.”
“You mean your cameras?”
“They aren’t mine.”
Emily almost laughed, but there was no humor left inside her.
“You expect me to believe that?”
Daniel reached for her arm.
She pulled away.
“Emily, listen carefully. We need to leave before—”
The bakery window shattered.
A bullet struck the wall above Daniel’s shoulder.
People screamed.
Daniel threw Emily to the floor as another shot tore through the glass.
He dragged her behind the counter.
“Stay down!”
The cashier crouched beside them, crying.
Emily’s ears rang.
Daniel pulled a compact pistol from beneath his jacket.
She stared at him.
Her husband had never owned a gun.
At least, that was what he had always told her.
He checked the weapon with practiced hands.
Too practiced.
Claire’s voice came through the prepaid phone, still connected.
“Emily, the shooter is not aiming at you.”
Daniel heard her.
His eyes fixed on the phone.
“Claire?”
Silence followed.
Daniel’s expression changed.
Not surprise.
Recognition.
He whispered one sentence that made Emily’s blood run cold.
May you like
“Claire died eight years ago.”
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