The next afternoon, Bethany sat in Cornerstone Café, her hands wrapped around a lukewarm coffee she hadn't touched. Every time the bell above the door chimed, her heart jumped.
"Mrs. Chen?"
She looked up to find a man in his early thirties with dark hair and piercing blue eyes. He wasn't what she'd expected from a private investigator. No rumpled coat or five o'clock shadow. Instead, he wore a crisp navy suit that probably cost more than her monthly allowance.
"Lennox Vale." He extended his hand. "Thank you for coming."
"I almost didn't." Bethany shook his hand, surprised by the calluses on his palm. "How did you get my number? I never gave it to you."
"I'm good at what I do." Lennox slid into the seat across from her, placing a manila envelope on the table. "The question is, are you ready to see how good?"
Bethany stared at the envelope like it might bite her. "What's in there?"
"Evidence that your husband isn't the man you think he is. Though I suspect you already knew that."
"Derek's controlling and cruel, but that's not illegal."
"No, but embezzlement is."
The words hit her like a physical blow. "What?"
"Your husband has been stealing from his law firm's client trust accounts for two years. Small amounts at first, but it's escalated. We're talking about nearly half a million dollars."
Bethany's mind raced. "That's impossible. Derek makes good money. Why would he—"
"Gambling debts. Your husband has a serious problem with high-stakes poker. He owes some very dangerous people a lot of money."
"You're lying." But even as she said it, pieces started falling into place. Derek's late nights. The mysterious phone calls. The way he'd become even more controlling about money.
Lennox opened the envelope and slid a photograph across the table. Derek sat at a poker table, chips stacked high in front of him, his face flushed with excitement she'd never seen at home.
"This was taken three nights ago at an underground game downtown. Recognize anyone else?"
Bethany studied the faces around the table and gasped. "That's Vincent Torrino."
"The Vincent Torrino. As in, the man who owns half the illegal gambling operations in the city. Your husband is in deep with people who break kneecaps for fun."
"Why are you telling me this?" Bethany's voice came out as a whisper.
"Because you called me six months ago, desperate and scared. Because I've been watching you, and I know what he does to you behind closed doors. And because you deserve better than living in fear."
"What do you want from me?"
Lennox leaned forward, his voice intense. "Help me bring him down. You have access to his home office, his computer, his files. With your help, I can get enough evidence to put him away for years."
"And then what? He gets out of prison and kills me?"
"He won't get the chance. The feds have been building a case against Torrino for months. If Derek goes down for the embezzlement, he'll have to flip on Torrino to avoid serious prison time. That makes him a liability."
The implication hung in the air between them. Bethany felt sick.
"I can't. If Derek finds out I'm working against him—"
"He won't find out. I'll protect you."
Something in his voice made her look up sharply. There was more than professional interest in his eyes.
"Why do you care what happens to me?"
Lennox was quiet for a long moment. "Because I've been watching you for six months. I've seen you at the grocery store with bruises you try to cover with makeup. I've seen you flinch when other men raise their voices. And I've seen the strength it takes for you to keep getting up every morning."
Heat flooded Bethany's cheeks. "You've been stalking me?"
"I've been protecting you. There's a difference."
Before she could respond, her phone buzzed. Derek's name flashed on the screen.
"I have to go." She started to stand, but Lennox caught her wrist gently.
"Think about what I said. You don't have to live like this forever."
Bethany pulled away and grabbed the envelope. "What if I get caught?"
"Then we both go down together. But Bethany?" He waited until she met his eyes. "Some risks are worth taking."
She was halfway to her car when she realized he'd used her first name, and that it sounded different when he said it, not like a possession or an accusation.
Like a promise.