The clock struck eight when the detective handed Elena the sealed envelope.
—Open it when you’re ready —he said before disappearing into the crowd at the reception.
Elena pressed her red silk dress against her body, feeling the pulse throb in her temples. By her side, Marcus maintained that unflinching smile he always used at charity galas.
His arm wrapped around her, projecting the perfect image of the ideal couple in front of all the cameras.
—Keep calm —he whispered in her ear, tilting his head slightly. The entire hotel was watching.
Elena’s face turned, her smile intact for the photographers. —It’s the only moment we have left —she replied, her voice serene but icy.
The phone vibrated violently inside the bag of his blue suit. He made no attempt to take it out, but Elena noticed how his jaw muscle tensed imperceptibly.
Five minutes earlier, the hotel reception was just another party to raise funds. Now, it had become the scene of a silent chase where words were loaded weapons.
—If you open that envelope here, there will be no turning back —he murmured, tightening his belt softly.
—The turning back you destroyed six months ago in Chicago —she said in a barely audible sigh.
A photographer approached, dazzling them with a white flash. They posed with elegance, offering their best angle, as they had rehearsed for almost ten years of marriage.
No one suspected that the elegance of that evening was just a elaborate mask. Elena felt the edges of the paper inside the envelope stabbing her with a painful truth.
She had to decide in a matter of seconds whether to confront him in front of three hundred guests or wait to cross the exit door.
—Elena, listen to me carefully —he said, lowering his tone as he adjusted his bag.
“I’m listening, Marcus, but my eyes have already read the first three lines of the report.”
Marcus’ face didn’t lose its smile, but his dark eyes revealed a first-time panic fracture. The relentless businessman, the perfect husband, was cornered in the middle of a luxury gala.
“You don’t know the whole story,” he whispered.
“So explain to me what my father’s signature is on that Zurich bank account.”
The quartet music continued to resonate softly in the grand hall. Crystal glasses clinked in joyful toasts just a few meters away.
Elena felt a drop of cold sweat running down her back. The decision was made.
“I’ll pull the rope today, Marcus,” she decreed, stepping just a millimeter away from his shoulder.
He held her firmer, smiling at the lens of another photographer passing by. “If you fall, we both fall, Elena,” he replied with a voice so soft it felt like a caress.
The air between them became dense, suffocating, filled with secrets kept for a whole decade.
“I’d rather fall than continue living in this theater,” Elena fixed her gaze on the main door.
It was at that very moment that the lights in the main hall completely went out. A whisper of surprise echoed through the room.
In the total darkness, Elena felt Marcus’ hand suddenly release her waist. She heard the unmistakable sound of a piece of paper tearing.
(The lights have gone out and the evidence is in danger! Click “Next Page” to continue reading…)
