Chapter 12 - The Trap
I went to Chicago the next morning.
Miguel sat behind glass in a temporary interview room, not yet formally charged but held while investigators sorted through conflicting statements.
He looked exhausted.
I picked up the phone.
“You took money?”
He closed his eyes.
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“Ten thousand.”
I laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because twelve years of marriage had apparently failed to teach me who this man was.
“For what?”
“To delete a backup.”
“Whose backup?”
“Vitalis.”
“Of the authorization?”
“Yes.”
“But you kept your own copy.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Insurance.”
The word disgusted me.
“Insurance for yourself.”
“Yes.”
“Not for Richard.”
“No.”
“Not because you wanted to expose what happened.”
“No.”
I stared at him.
“At least now you're telling the truth.”
“I’m trying.”
“When did Ethan pay you?”
“Two days after the accident.”
“How?”
“Cash.”
“Through Valerie?”
“No.”
“Directly?”
“Yes.”
“You met Ethan?”
Miguel nodded.
“Where?”
“A hotel bar.”
My stomach turned.
“And Valerie?”
“She didn't know.”
“So the message she sent—‘Don't leave me alone with this’—”
“She had realized something was wrong.”
“So your affair and the accident investigation overlapped.”
“Yes.”
“How convenient.”
Miguel lowered his eyes.
“You’re right.”
“Stop agreeing with me like it fixes anything.”
“I don't know what else to do.”
“That’s been your problem for years.”
The words came before I could stop them.
But I didn't regret them.
Miguel looked through the glass.
“I loved you.”
“I believe you.”
He seemed surprised.
“Love wasn't the problem.”
“What was?”
“You kept choosing whatever required the least courage.”
His eyes filled.
I continued.
“You loved me until defending me from your mother required discomfort. You loved our marriage until saying no to Valerie required discipline. You knew something was wrong with Richard’s accident, but protecting a stranger required risk.”
Miguel looked down.
“I’m sorry.”
“I know.”
And for the first time, his apology did not create hope.
Only closure.
Before I left, he said, “Maya.”
I turned.
“Ethan asked me something when we met.”
“What?”
“If I knew anyone experienced with disabled patients.”
My skin went cold.
“When?”
“After Richard’s accident.”
“Why?”
“He was looking for caregivers.”
My breathing stopped.
“Did you give him my name?”
“No.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
“Then why mention it?”
“Because he already knew about you.”
I stared.
“How?”
“I don't know.”
That made no sense.
My job had come through Denise.
A former training classmate.
Had the referral been random?
I called Denise immediately.
“Who gave you the Vance job?”
“A placement coordinator.”
“Name?”
She checked.
“Chloe Vance.”
My stomach dropped.
“Did she ask for me specifically?”
Silence.
“Maya…”
“Tell me.”
“She asked whether anyone from our old training group had experience with post-stroke mobility.”
“And?”
“I mentioned you.”
“Then what?”
“She asked for your number.”
I closed my eyes.
They had chosen me.
Why?
I told Richard.
His face hardened.
“They researched your connection to Miguel.”
“So Ethan knew from the beginning.”
“Probably.”
“Then why hire me?”
“To watch what Miguel did.”
“Or use me.”
Richard frowned.
“How?”
“As leverage.”
Against Miguel.
Maybe they believed threatening me would keep him silent.
Maybe my employment had never been an accident.
The realization made me feel violated.
Again.
A life arranged by people who assumed I would never notice.
But this time, I was not the woman Ofelia had watched walk away with two suitcases.
I called Laura.
“We need a trap.”
She sighed.
“I dislike that sentence already.”
“Ethan thinks Miguel hid something.”
“Yes.”
“What if he believes Miguel gave it to me?”
“He probably already does.”
“Then let him come looking.”
Richard objected immediately.
“No.”
Laura agreed.
“No.”
Dr. Pierce, when told, also said no.
I looked around the room.
“Wonderful. Democracy.”
Richard glared.
“This isn't funny.”
“We need evidence connecting Ethan directly to Miguel’s payment.”
“We have Miguel’s testimony.”
“He’ll be attacked as unreliable.”
Laura nodded reluctantly.
“That’s true.”
“If Ethan thinks I have the remaining evidence, he may contact me.”
Richard looked at Laura.
“Absolutely not.”
I ignored him.
“How do we make it controlled?”
Laura thought.
“Recorded phone. Police nearby. No private meetings.”
“Fine.”
Richard rolled his chair toward me.
“Maya.”
“What?”
“You're using yourself as bait.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“You used yourself as bait for eight weeks pretending you couldn't move.”
“That was different.”
“Why?”
“Because it was me.”
I stared at him.
He realized how ridiculous that sounded.
“You don't get to value my safety more than I do.”
His expression softened.
“I do.”
Silence.
The sentence hung between us.
Not professional.
Not quite romantic.
Something more complicated.
I lowered my voice.
“Richard.”
“I know.”
He looked away.
“We’ll discuss that later.”
“No. We won't.”
He looked back.
“Why?”
“Because you're still my patient.”
Understanding crossed his face.
Then respect.
“Right.”
The trap began that evening.
I sent Ethan one message.
MIGUEL GAVE ME EVERYTHING.
Nothing else.
Three minutes later, my phone rang.
Ethan.
I answered on speaker while Laura and two detectives listened.
“Maya.”
“Ethan.”
“You've made a serious mistake.”
“So I've been told.”
“What did Miguel give you?”
“You already know.”
“Where is it?”
“Safe.”
“Maya, listen carefully.”
“I’m listening.”
“You’re caught inside something you don't understand.”
“That line is getting old.”
“You think Richard cares about you?”
My jaw tightened.
“Not relevant.”
“He’s using you.”
“Still not relevant.”
“He’ll discard you the second he can walk.”
I almost laughed.
“You really don't understand women at all, do you?”
“What?”
“I didn't leave Miguel to find another man.”
Silence.
“I don't need Richard to rescue me.”
Ethan’s voice hardened.
“Give me the drive.”
“No.”
“I paid Miguel for it.”
There.
The detectives looked at one another.
Laura wrote: KEEP HIM TALKING.
“How much?”
“Enough.”
“Ten thousand?”
Silence.
“Cheap price for attempted murder.”
“I didn't pay him for murder evidence.”
“For what?”
“To delete proprietary company records.”
“Why?”
“Because they were stolen.”
“Stolen from Vitalis?”
Ethan realized the problem.
Too late.
I continued.
“You paid an employee of another company to destroy their records?”
“That isn't what I said.”
“Yes, it is.”
He hung up.
Laura smiled.
“Useful.”
Then one detective’s phone rang.
His expression changed.
“What?”
We waited.
He ended the call.
“Ethan Vance’s tracking bracelet just stopped transmitting.”
Richard stared.
“What bracelet?”
“Temporary monitoring ordered this morning.”
“Where was he?”
“His attorney’s office.”
“And now?”
“We don't know.”
My phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
A photograph appeared.
My rented apartment.
Then a second image.
Ofelia entering the building.
A message:
BRING THE DRIVE OR YOUR FORMER MOTHER-IN-LAW FINALLY LEARNS HOW HARD IT IS TO SURVIVE ALONE.
I stared at the screen.
Richard read it.
His face became terrifyingly calm.
May you like
“He has Ofelia.”
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