Chapter 4 - The Stranded Traitors
Back in the safety of my heavily locked house, I plugged the encrypted USB drive into an old, offline laptop. It took a brute-force password cracking software I bought off the dark web nearly ten hours to break Samantha's basic encryption. When the files finally opened, I hit the jackpot.
It was the real ledger. Samantha, ever the survivor, had kept a meticulous, shadow accounting book detailing every single transfer Richard made, proving definitively that he was the mastermind and she was the architect. My name wasn't on a single internal document. It was pure, unadulterated exoneration.
Suddenly, the burner phone in my pocket vibrated.
I stared at the screen. It was an international number calling. Nassau, Bahamas.
I took a deep breath, let the emotion drain completely out of my body, and answered.
"Hello?" I said softly.
"Catherine?" The voice was panicked, breathless, and soaked in tears. It was Samantha.
"Well," I replied calmly. "This takes some nerve."
"Catherine, please, you have to listen to me! I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, but I need your help!" Samantha sobbed.
"You stole my husband, forged my name on federal banking documents, and framed me for embezzlement. Tell me, Samantha, why on earth would I help you?"
"Because Richard left me!" she screamed into the phone. "When the credit cards declined at the hotel this morning, he panicked. He thought the feds were already onto us. We had a huge fight. He took the backup cash and ran. He left me here, Catherine. I don't have a passport, I don't have money, and... and Volkov's men are here on the island. They are looking for him, but they will settle for me."
A dark, cold satisfaction bloomed in my chest. There is no honor among thieves. When the money dried up, their grand romance lasted less than twenty-four hours.
"Where is Richard going?" I demanded, hitting the record button on my end of the line.
"He’s trying to charter a private boat to Miami," Samantha cried. "He thinks he can access a safety deposit box there. Catherine, please wire me money. I'll give you everything. I'll testify against him!"
"I don't need your testimony, Sam," I said smoothly. "I have your USB drive."
May you like
Dead silence on the other end of the line.
"Good luck," I said, repeating the exact words I had texted my husband. I hung up the phone, crushed the burner under the heel of my shoe, and called my lawyer. It was time to set a trap.
