Zane sat in his office, but his mind was elsewhere.
Amara had changed—subtly, but unmistakably. She was warmer, more present since their getaway, and for a while, he let himself believe they were finally rebuilding. But now, there were long phone calls taken in private, half-truths wrapped in soft smiles, and unexplained outings that didn't match the calendar he never used to check.
Until now.
Today was one of those days. Amara had left hours ago, saying she had errands to run downtown. Something in her voice—a flicker of hesitation—told him otherwise.
And so Zane followed.
He kept his distance, switching cars for a nondescript SUV he hadn't touched in months. It felt ridiculous at first. Spying on his own wife. But the more he watched her weave through the city like someone avoiding notice, the more the knot in his chest tightened.
She wasn't shopping.
She wasn't visiting anyone he knew.
And now, she was walking into a small café tucked between a closed-down bookstore and a pawn shop—quiet, unassuming, and definitely not a place you stumbled into by accident.
He waited five minutes before stepping out, pulling a cap low over his brow. Through the dusty front window, he spotted her. She wasn't alone.
A man—late thirties, lean build, buzz cut, dressed in black—sat across from her. A file folder lay between them, unopened coffee steaming gently in front of him. Amara looked nervous. Focused.
Zane slipped in, unnoticed, seating himself in a booth behind a partition, close enough to hear.
"…he doesn't suspect anything yet," Amara said softly.
Zane's pulse stilled. Him?
Rowen Cade nodded. "That's good. But time isn't on our side. Selene and Darian are moving faster than I anticipated."
"I don't want to alarm him," she continued. "Zane's been through too much already. If he knew what they're planning…"
Rowen leaned forward. "You're trying to protect him. I get it. But if they succeed, it won't just break him emotionally—it'll destroy everything he's built."
Zane clenched his fists beneath the table. Selene. Darian. Why are their name being mentioned and what are they planning?
"I want everything on them, Rowen," Amara said, her voice hardening. "Every shell company. Every lie. Every thread I can pull until it all unravels."
Rowen hesitated. "Are you sure you're ready for what that means? Once you start, there's no going back."
"I've already lost once," she replied. "This time, I win."
Zane leaned back, the air thick in his lungs. He had questions—thousands of them. But mostly, he felt something else:
Relief.
She wasn't hiding a betrayal.
She was preparing for war.
He waited until Rowen stood and left, brushing past him without a glance. Then, quietly, Zane rose and stepped into the café, approaching the table.
Amara looked up—and froze.
"Zane?"
He didn't sit. He didn't speak. He just looked at her.
"I can explain," she said quickly, standing to meet his eye.
He gave a slow nod. "I know."
"You followed me?" she asked, torn between guilt and defensiveness.
"Because I was worried. You've been distant again. And now I understand why."
Amara lowered her eyes. "I didn't want you to carry this too. I wanted to protect you."
Zane stepped closer, his voice low. "Don't you get it? I don't need protection. I need the truth. Always."
She nodded, swallowing back emotion. "Then sit down. Let me tell you everything."
---
Flashback – The Night Amara Called Rowen
It was two weeks after their vacation.
Amara sat on the edge of the bed, Zane asleep beside her. Moonlight spilled across the room. Her fingers trembled as she dialed the number she'd kept hidden for years.
Rowen answered after one ring.
"You really want to do this?" he asked without preamble.
"Yes," Amara whispered. "I need to know what they're planning. I need to know how far they've gone. And I need to stop them."
He sighed. "Then we start tomorrow."
---
Back in the Present
Zane sat with her now, flipping through the folder Rowen had left behind. Names. Offshore accounts. Meetings between Selene and Darian that intersected too perfectly with Zane's financial inconsistencies over the past year.
"They're bleeding us," he murmured. "Quietly. Intentionally."
Amara touched his hand. "That's why I didn't tell you yet. I needed proof."
He closed the folder, jaw tight. "Well, now we have it. So what's the plan?"
Her eyes hardened. "We take them down, piece by piece. And we don't let them see us coming."
Zane leaned back, pride and rage swirling together. His wife—the woman he once thought too delicate for war—was the one drawing the battlefield.
And he was ready to fight beside her.