Chapter 3 - The Man Across the Street
Lucas switched off every light on the first floor.
Victoria guided Ethan into the hallway bathroom, the only room without an exterior window, while I remained near the staircase with my phone clenched in my hand.
The black SUV did not move.
Lucas stood behind the curtain and photographed the license plate.
“Registered to a rental agency,” he whispered. “Probably under a false name.”
“Should we call the police?”
“Already did.”
His calmness frightened me more than panic would have.
“Will they get here in time?”
“They’re three minutes away.”
Three minutes can be an eternity when someone is watching your child.
I heard Ethan asking Victoria why we were sitting in the bathroom. She told him there might be a gas leak in the neighborhood.
It was an imperfect lie, but it kept him from crying.
The SUV’s driver-side door opened.
A man stepped onto the pavement.
He wore a dark cap, work boots, and a black jacket zipped to his throat. I could not see his face clearly, but I saw the silver ring when he adjusted his sleeve.
The same falcon crest.
He crossed the street.
Lucas drew a handgun from beneath his jacket.
I stared at it.
“You carry a gun?”
“I hoped you would never need to know.”
The man reached the sidewalk.
Then police sirens sounded in the distance.
He stopped, turned, and walked quickly back to the vehicle.
The SUV accelerated before the patrol cars reached the block.
Lucas lowered his weapon.
The police searched the neighborhood but found nothing.
They took statements, reviewed the video, and promised to increase patrols. Their assurances did little to comfort me.
At ten thirty, Victoria decided we had to relocate again.
“This address may be compromised,” she said.
“How did they find us?”
“Your phone, the moving company, the school records, one of my employees—we don’t know yet.”
Lucas examined my phone.
“There’s no obvious tracking software, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t a physical tracker on something you brought with you.”
We searched the luggage, Ethan’s backpack, my purse, and the car.
Lucas found the device sewn inside the lining of Ethan’s stuffed bear.
I sat down hard on the garage floor.
Arthur had given Ethan that bear two weeks earlier.
He claimed he had found it while cleaning a closet.
My son had carried it everywhere since.
Lucas removed the tracker with gloved hands and sealed it inside an evidence bag.
“Arthur knew you might leave,” he said.
“No.” I shook my head. “Arthur never believed I would leave.”
“Then someone else suspected you were preparing to.”
Genevieve.
The name arrived instantly.
She had spent years studying customers and manipulating public perception as a marketing director. She understood how people behaved. She understood how to turn weakness into leverage.
And she hated me.
Not because I was Arthur’s wife.
Because half the company belonged to me.
We relocated to a private apartment above Victoria’s downtown law office. The building had reinforced entrances, round-the-clock guards, and elevators requiring biometric access.
Ethan slept in a conference room converted into a temporary bedroom.
I sat outside the glass wall watching him until midnight.
Lucas placed a cup of coffee beside me.
“You should rest.”
“I spent ten years resting while Arthur built a second life.”
“That isn’t what happened.”
“It feels like it.”
“You raised a child and trusted your husband. Neither is a crime.”
“No, but trust made me careless.”
Lucas sat across from me.
“Trust isn’t carelessness. Ignoring evidence is carelessness. You didn’t ignore it.”
I studied him.
“How do you know so much about Harrison Drake?”
His expression closed slightly.
“I investigated one of his contractors two years ago.”
“For whom?”
“A family whose son died at a construction site.”
“What happened?”
“The contractor falsified safety reports. The site was connected to one of Drake’s public projects.”
“Did you prove it?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“The key witness disappeared. The case collapsed.”
“Like Simon?”
“Possibly.”
The word hung between us.
At twelve forty-five, Victoria received an emergency court notification.
Arthur had filed for temporary custody of Ethan.
His petition accused me of emotional instability, financial misconduct, and parental alienation. He claimed I had suffered episodes of paranoia and had removed our son from his home without warning.
Attached to the filing were statements from Genevieve and two company employees.
Genevieve described me as “increasingly erratic.”
One employee claimed I had threatened to destroy Arthur’s reputation if he ever left me.
The second said I had accessed company accounts without authorization.
Every statement was a carefully constructed lie.
Arthur was not trying to bring Ethan home.
He was trying to discredit me before I could expose him.
Victoria read the petition twice.
“He’s requesting an emergency hearing tomorrow afternoon.”
“Can he win?”
“Not with the evidence we have. But he doesn’t need to win permanently. He only needs access.”
“To Ethan?”
“Or to you.”
Lucas walked to the window.
“This hearing could force Teresa into a public courthouse. Predictable arrival, predictable security screening, predictable schedule.”
I understood immediately.
“It’s a trap.”
“Maybe,” he said. “But refusing to appear would strengthen Arthur’s claim.”
Victoria began calling members of her legal team.
“We’ll request a remote appearance because of the threat.”
Arthur’s attorneys opposed the request within twenty minutes.
They insisted there was no credible danger and accused us of using imaginary threats to manipulate the court.
At two in the morning, the judge ruled that I had to appear in person.
I did not sleep.
The next afternoon, Lucas drove me to the courthouse in an armored vehicle.
Victoria sat beside me reviewing arguments while two security officers followed in another car.
The courthouse steps were crowded with reporters.
Arthur had leaked the custody dispute.
He stood near the entrance in a dark suit, performing heartbreak for the cameras.
“My only concern is my son,” he told a reporter. “Teresa needs help, and I pray she receives it.”
The hypocrisy nearly stole my breath.
Then Genevieve stepped out behind him.
She wore a cream-colored coat and a solemn expression, as though she were supporting a grieving friend instead of sleeping with another woman’s husband.
Her gaze met mine.
She smiled.
Not for the cameras.
For me.
Inside the courtroom, Arthur’s lawyer portrayed me as a vindictive wife who had misunderstood normal business transactions. He argued that the frozen accounts threatened hundreds of employees and several public construction projects.
Victoria dismantled his claims one by one.
She produced hotel receipts, company transfers, and the threatening message sent to my phone.
Arthur denied knowing anything about the threat.
Then Victoria displayed the photograph of him with Genevieve and Harrison Drake.
For the first time, Arthur lost control.
“That photograph is stolen,” he said.
The judge looked over her glasses. “Mr. Holloway, your attorney will speak for you.”
“It has nothing to do with my son.”
“It may have a great deal to do with your credibility.”
Arthur leaned toward his lawyer and whispered furiously.
I watched his hands.
His right thumb repeatedly rubbed the edge of his wedding ring, an old habit that surfaced whenever he was frightened.
He was terrified.
The judge denied his emergency custody request and ordered Ethan to remain with me pending a full evaluation. She also prohibited both parents from removing him from the state.
Relief moved through me.
It lasted less than a minute.
As we exited through a secured hallway, Lucas stopped abruptly.
A courthouse employee pushed a metal cart toward us.
The man wore an identification badge and maintenance uniform.
But his shoes were wrong.
Polished black tactical boots.
Lucas shoved me behind a stone column just as the man reached beneath a folded stack of linens.
Security officers tackled him before he could draw the weapon.
Chaos exploded through the corridor.
Arthur’s voice echoed from the far end.
“What happened?”
The man was pinned facedown on the floor.
His maintenance badge broke loose and skidded across the tile.
Lucas picked it up.
The photograph did not match the attacker.
As officers searched him, one removed a silver ring from his hand.
The black falcon crest stared up at us.
Arthur looked at the ring.
His face went white.
Then the attacker turned his head toward him and shouted, “Drake says you have twenty-four hours!”
May you like
Every reporter outside the courtroom heard the name.
And every camera turned toward my husband.
