Vincent Torrino's warehouse sat on the outskirts of the city like a concrete tomb. Derek's hands shook as he parked, and Bethany realized with a chill that her husband was just as terrified as she was.
"Listen to me," Derek whispered urgently as two men in dark suits approached the car. "Whatever happens in there, don't mention Vale's name unless Vincent asks directly. And if he does ask, tell him the truth—that you thought you were just trying to leave me."
"Derek—"
"I'm serious, Bethany. Vincent doesn't forgive, but he might understand stupidity. Play the scared housewife. It's your only chance."
The car door opened before she could respond. Rough hands pulled her out into the cold night air.
The warehouse interior was surprisingly warm, filled with the smell of cigarettes and expensive cologne. Vincent Torrino sat behind a massive desk, looking more like a bank president than a crime boss. His silver hair was perfectly styled, his suit impeccable. Only his eyes betrayed the monster underneath—cold, calculating, empty of anything resembling mercy.
"Derek. And the lovely Mrs. Chen." Vincent's voice was smooth as silk. "Please, sit."
Two chairs had been placed in front of his desk. Derek sat immediately, but Bethany remained standing until one of Vincent's men pressed a heavy hand on her shoulder.
"Now then," Vincent said, folding his hands on the desk. "We have a problem."
"Vincent, I can explain—"
"Quiet, Derek. I'm talking to your wife." Vincent's gaze fixed on Bethany like a laser. "You've been busy, haven't you, my dear? Meeting with private investigators, installing software on your husband's computer. Very industrious for a housewife."
Bethany's mouth felt like cotton. "I just wanted to leave him. I didn't know about... about any of this."
"About what, exactly?"
"The gambling. The debts. Your... business relationship."
Vincent smiled, and it was somehow worse than his anger would have been. "Interesting. And this private investigator—what was his name?"
Derek shot her a warning look.
"Lennox Vale," she whispered.
"Ah yes. Mr. Vale. Tell me, what did he promise you in exchange for your help?"
"Protection. A new life. He said... he said he'd help me get away from Derek."
"And you believed him?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
The question caught her off guard. "Because he seemed to care about what happened to me."
Vincent laughed, a sound like breaking glass. "Oh, my dear naive child. Men like Lennox Vale don't care about anything except their cases. You were never a person to him. You were a tool."
"That's not true."
"No? Then why hasn't he burst through those doors to rescue you? It's been three hours since Derek called him. Where is your white knight now?"
The words hit her like physical blows, but Vincent wasn't finished.
"I've been doing some research on your Mr. Vale. Did you know he's been tracking your husband for two years? Two years, Mrs. Chen. Long before you ever called his office. Long before you knew Derek was in trouble."
Bethany's world tilted. "What?"
"He's FBI, darling. Deep undercover. His whole private investigator business? Cover story. He's been building a case against me for three years, and your husband was his way in."
The room spun around her. Every conversation with Lennox, every touch, every promise—all of it a lie.
"But then you handed him a gift," Vincent continued. "A desperate wife with access to her husband's files. He must have thought it was Christmas."
"Vincent," Derek interrupted. "She didn't know. She's not FBI. She's just—"
"Just what? Innocent?" Vincent's laugh was cruel. "Your wife cost me twelve million dollars tonight, Derek. Twelve. Million. Dollars. The warehouse in Brooklyn? Gone. The shipping operation in Queens? Raided. Three years of careful planning, destroyed because your little wife wanted to play detective."
Bethany found her voice. "I didn't know any of that would happen. I swear to you, I just wanted out of my marriage."
"And what did Mr. Vale offer you in exchange for your help? Money? Protection? Love?"
The last word dripped with sarcasm, but it hit too close to home. Bethany's silence was answer enough.
"Love," Vincent repeated, shaking his head. "The oldest con in the book. Make the mark feel special, wanted, cared for. Get them to do anything for you."
"It wasn't like that—"
"Wasn't it? Tell me, Mrs. Chen, in all your conversations with Agent Vale, did he ever mention that he was married?"
The words hit her like a physical blow. "What?"
Vincent pulled out his phone and showed her a photo. Lennox in a tuxedo, his arm around a beautiful blonde woman in a wedding dress. Both of them smiling, radiating happiness.
"Married four years. Wife's name is Sarah. She's a nurse at Presbyterian Hospital. They have a two-year-old daughter named Emma."
Bethany stared at the photo, her vision blurring. Every tender moment with Lennox, every promise, every time he'd made her feel like she mattered—all of it built on lies.
"Now," Vincent said, putting the phone away. "Let's discuss what we're going to do about this situation."
"Vincent, please," Derek said. "Bethany made a mistake, but she's not your enemy. She's just—"
"She's a liability. As are you." Vincent stood up, straightening his tie. "The FBI raids tonight captured enough evidence to put me away for life. Unless, of course, that evidence were to mysteriously disappear."
"How?" Bethany asked.
"Simple. Your husband is going to walk into the FBI field office tomorrow morning and confess to fabricating evidence. He's going to claim he planted false documents, doctored recordings, made up witnesses. A desperate man trying to save his own skin by framing an innocent businessman."
"They'll never believe that," Derek protested.
"They will when you provide proof. Real proof. Bank records showing payments to fake witnesses. Emails between you and fictional informants. A very convincing story about how a gambling addict tried to frame me to get out of his debts."
Bethany realized with growing horror where this was leading. "And then what happens to us?"
Vincent's smile was predatory. "Derek goes to prison for perjury, obstruction of justice, and about a dozen other charges. You, my dear, disappear. Permanently."
"Vincent, that's not necessary—" Derek began.
"She knows too much. She's seen too much. And more importantly, she's the only witness who can contradict Derek's confession."
The warehouse fell silent except for the hum of fluorescent lights overhead.
"Unless," Vincent continued, "Agent Vale decides to be reasonable."
"What do you mean?"
"Your boyfriend has two choices. He can watch his case fall apart when Derek recants everything, or he can watch you die. Slowly. Painfully. While he listens on the phone."
Bethany's blood turned to ice. "You're going to kill me to make Lennox suffer?"
"Oh no, my dear. I'm going to kill you to make him choose—his case, or your life. The righteous FBI agent is forced to choose between justice and the woman he supposedly loves. How romantic."
"He doesn't love me," Bethany whispered. "You just showed me he's married."
"But he thinks he does. Or at least, he's convinced himself he does. Either way, it makes for excellent leverage."
Vincent nodded to his men, who moved toward Bethany and Derek.
"Take them to the basement. Please make sure they're comfortable. It's going to be a long night."
As hands grabbed her arms, Bethany's mind raced. Lennox had lied about everything—his identity, his intentions, his feelings. Derek was willing to sacrifice her to save himself. Vincent saw her as nothing more than a chess piece.
But as they dragged her toward a door marked "AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY," one thought cut through the despair:
She was done being anyone's victim.
The basement door slammed shut behind them, and Bethany Chen began planning her own rescue.