Chapter 7 - A Sanctuary in the Shadows
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Across town, three miles away from the chaos at the condominium, I sat on the edge of a small velvet armchair in a quiet, sunlit rented brownstone in Brooklyn.
The room was tiny compared to the penthouse, but the air felt different here. It was clean. It was safe.
I reached up with a cautious hand, touching the white bandage taped behind my right ear. The throbbing pain was still there, radiating down into my neck every time I turned my head, but the suffocating weight that had rested on my chest for five years was gone.
On the coffee table in front of me sat my laptop, displaying my private bank accounts.
Over the past three years, while Julian believed I was spending my money on clothes and household decor, I had been quietly rerouting my salary into an off-shore trust account. I had enough capital to live comfortably for three years without touching a single asset tied to our joint marriage filings.
My phone, resting beside the laptop, suddenly began to vibrate against the wood.
I flinched, expecting it to be Julian’s lawyer or an angry text from Carol using a burner phone. But when I looked down at the screen, my heart stopped beating in my chest.
The caller ID didn't show a name. It displayed an international sixteen-digit satellite number—a format I hadn't seen on my screen in six long years.
My fingers trembled as I reached for the device. My breath hitched in my throat.
I pressed answer and brought the phone to my ear, but I couldn't speak.
May you like
A deep, raspy, age-worn voice whispered through the static from thousands of miles away.
"Ara... my sweet girl... don't trust Julian."
