My Wife Set the Trap

Ten thousand. In my account by tomorrow, or the photos go to your wife. The text came in while I was with the college girl I'd been keeping for six months.

The photo attached to it caught both our faces. Clear as day. I'd always been careful. Two hours a visit, never longer. Never the messaging app.

Never a trace anyone could put a finger on. Six months, and my wife hadn't blinked once. I'd always thought this secret was airtight. But somebody didn't just have my movements.

They'd put a lens outside that window. Chapter 1 I froze for two seconds. Then I was off her and at the window in two strides. A few lights on in the windows across the way.

Nobody at any of them. But the angle of that photo told me where the lens had been — somewhere between the fifth and sixth floor of the building opposite.

I reached up and yanked the curtains shut. "What's wrong?" Sabine sat up in bed, looking at me, puzzled. "Nothing." I turned around and looked her in the eye. "Sabine.

Do you love me?" She blinked. "Of course." "You're with me because you want to be?" "Why are you asking me this?" "Answer me." "…Yes." "Have I ever made you do anything you didn't want to do?" "…No." "Good." I stopped the recording.

The whole thing had taken less than a minute. Every answer out of her own mouth, her voice easy, not a trace of pressure on it.

Whatever came next, I had to be cut clean out of any criminal case. "Vaughn." There was a shake in her voice now. "What's going on?" I didn't answer.

I opened the message and typed back to the number. I've seen the photo. Nice work. But it's one photo. How do I know you've got anything else? Failed to send. A virtual number.

I closed my eyes. I was crawling out of my own skin. Whoever this was had gotten a shot of me in Sabby's bed, which meant he'd been on me for more than a day.

And I hadn't caught it once. I went back to the window and looked down through the gap in the curtains. The scooter that had been parked downstairs was gone.

When I opened the door, Sabine caught the hem of my shirt. "I thought you weren't leaving tonight." I stopped.

I didn't turn around. "Starting tomorrow, stay at the dorm." "Why?" "I won't be coming by for a while." The door closed behind me. Out of the elevator, over to the car.

I stopped and looked around. Nothing out of place. He was in the dark. I was standing in the light. If I went charging out after him now, I'd be swinging blind.

I pulled up the blackmail text, copied the sender's number, and scrolled to Dom. Dom. Detective, investigations. Grew up on the same block as me. You up?

The phone buzzed a second later. Nope, on shift. What's up? Hey man. Friend of mine's got a situation. Somebody's texting him for ten grand, says they've got intimate photos of him.

How does that usually go? A voice message came back fast. "This friend of yours married?" Yeah. "That's an overseas VoIP number. You're never tracing it to anybody.

Tell your friend — filing a report means it's on the record. Once a case is open, they start bringing people in.

And whatever account he'd be paying into is opened under someone else's name.

You run the whole process and odds are nobody gets caught." Another one came right after. "And if they're intimate photos — the day his wife files for divorce, all her lawyer has to do is subpoena our file.

That report becomes the hardest evidence she's got. So he needs to think this all the way through before he calls anything in." I drew a breath in through my teeth.

So if it were you, what would you do? Chapter 2 "I'd stall him first. Then I'd go through everybody myself.

Nine times out of ten, something like this comes from somebody close to you." I closed my eyes for a second. Thanks, man. Drinks on me.

I hung up and tossed the phone onto the passenger seat. Then I shut my eyes and went through everyone I could think of, one at a time. Sabine. She was the first one I thought of.

But the one I'd met first was her roommate, Harper. Last year I'd been brought in to give a career talk at their school, and Harper was the student liaison.

We hadn't known each other long when she messaged me for help.

Her roommate had taken a parttime job through an agency and gotten burned — signed the contract before she read it, and it turned out to be a scam.

They kept the deposit, and somehow the girl came out owing them money. She'd cried herself sick over it and was too scared to tell her family.

I read the contract, made one call to a lawyer friend of mine, and two days later the money came back. A small thing like that, and they insisted on buying me dinner.

That was where I first saw Sabine. White Tshirt, jeans, no makeup. She wasn't a knockout, but the way she carried herself landed exactly on a spot I didn't know I had.

She didn't make scenes. She didn't cling. She never made the first move. I couldn't even tell you which moment it was that got me.

After that, Sabine started asking me to dinner on her own. The dinners ran later. The talk ran deeper. What happened after the third one I don't think I need to spell out.

In six months she'd never done one thing to make me suspicious. Never went near my phone. Never asked what time I was coming home. Never messaged me first on a weekend.

What I'd given her, all in, came to fifty thousand at the low end. Rent, living money, even her mother's hospital bill for the surgery. I'd never shorted her once.

For a lousy ten grand? No. She had no reason. And she didn't have the nerve. I opened my eyes and looked out the windshield. Genevieve. My wife. Three months pregnant.

Although if I'm honest, I wasn't attached to this baby. The way the world works now, a man with money has no shortage of women lining up to have his kids.

The only reason I'd agreed to Genevieve getting pregnant was that it kept my parents quiet. She'd changed a lot since. Gotten plainer. Worn down.

Most mornings she was braced over the sink, dryheaving. Couldn't eat, couldn't sleep, couldn't work up interest in anything.

A woman in that shape — where would she find the energy to put something like this together? Besides, I'd covered myself perfectly these past few months.

Home when I was supposed to be home, rubbing her feet, reading to the bump. Didn't miss a day. So who did that leave?

The company was in the middle of bidding on that project, and we had serious money and serious hours sunk into it.

If those photos surfaced now, and Genevieve filed for divorce, I couldn't even map out how bad it would get. So. Could it be one of my competitors?

I wasn't going to sit here and wait for it to land. Twentyfour hours. I had to have this person by then. I picked up my phone and scrolled to a name. Bishop. Security work.

It rang three times before he answered. "Bishop. I need a favor." "Go." "I want eyes on a few people." The line went quiet for a few seconds. Then the sound of a lighter.

He pulled on the cigarette and let it out slow. "Two ways to do it. First one, all you want is movements.

You drop a tracker in their bags — coinsized, sticks to the lining at the bottom. Live location, accurate to six feet." Chapter 3 "Second way.

Live audio, recording, location, screen mirroring — the works. But for that you need their passcodes.

You have to unlock the phone to put the software on it." I was quiet for a moment. I knew Genevieve's passcode. It was our daughter's birthday.

Sabine's, I wasn't sure about. "And if I don't have it?" "Then you buy them a new phone. I load the software before you hand it over.

After that, every message, every photo, every call — you look whenever you want." My eyes lit up. "Fine. Get two new phones ready, software loaded, and a new line as well.

I'm coming for them now." "Done." I hung up and started the engine.

If I swapped the phone and swapped Genevieve's number at the same time, and kept the new number in my own name, that alone bought me three to five days. I wanted to see for myself.

Who the hell had the nerve to blackmail me? The lights were already off when I let myself in.

I was bending down to get my shoes off when a voice came from behind me. "This late?" My heart seized. My hand went out to the shoe rack and I nearly lost my footing.

I fumbled the living room light on. Genevieve was sitting on the couch, the glow of her phone screen on her face. "Evie? Why are you still up?" "Couldn't sleep. What about you?

I thought you were in Denver." "It got — cancelled. Last minute." I swallowed, and it went down rough. "Client moved the date." "Oh." She nodded and let it go.

I held out the box. "Evie, you've been having a hard time lately. That phone of yours is ancient, isn't it? Try this one. Newest model." Her eyes lit up. "Wow.

How did you know I wanted this foldable?" I smiled and reached over to smooth down her hair. "My wife likes something, you think I don't know about it? "Oh, and I got you a new line while I was at it.

The account's in my name, so the bill just goes through the company from now on. Saves you forgetting to pay it." "You think of everything." She laughed.

It was exactly the laugh from ten years ago, when we were dating. Nothing wrong with it anywhere. "Then I'd better start switching all my numbers over tomorrow.

Half my apps are still tied to the old one." "Do it tonight, while you've got time." She nodded and had the box open in seconds.

I went into the bathroom, shut the door, and locked it. The man in the mirror had cold eyes. All I had to do was take her phone number, and I had the better hand.

Because I didn't want a divorce right now. I needed time to move the assets. Once that was handled, there'd be nothing left to be afraid of. I slept badly that night.

Dream after dream, one running into the next. Somebody was posting photos into the companywide chat, one after another, and hundreds of people in there were asking, Mr.

Mercer, is this you? The phone wouldn't stop buzzing. I was mashing the power button and the button was soft, and it wouldn't go down. I came awake hard.

I reached over to the other side of the bed. Empty. Genevieve was gone. "Evie?" Nobody answered. I got up and pulled the bedroom door open. Bathroom light off.

Nobody in the living room. I picked up my phone and opened the mirroring app. The connection request spun three times before it caught.

The screen switched over, and there it was — her phone, right in front of me. She was scrolling short videos. Baby content. Something about how to care for newborn jaundice.

All perfectly normal. Chapter 4 Then she came out of the videos and switched over to the messaging app. Her chat list came up.

Seven or eight conversations pinned at the top — the building group, the family group, a moms group, her parents, me. Nothing out of the ordinary.

I was about to back out when my eye caught a profile photo. A girl, in profile, sitting by a window with her chin propped on her hand, looking out. My breath stopped in my throat.

I switched fast to the app on my own phone, went into my blocked list, and dug out that exact same face. Sabine. Genevieve had Sabine in her contacts?

I stared at that photo for a full five seconds, and one wire after another snapped in my head. I picked up my phone without thinking and called Sabine. No answer.

I glanced at the time in the corner of the screen. Five thirty. She wouldn't be up yet. But I was nowhere near sleep now.

If those two knew each other, and were covering for each other without either of them saying so — then the college girl I'd been keeping had been Genevieve's from the very beginning.

I had never felt anything like the panic that went through my head then. I shut my eyes and pushed my fingers deep into my hair, and started working out what Genevieve wanted.

She'd caught the first signs I was cheating. She'd hired somebody to shoot the compromising photos.

That kind of photo is taken illegally, so on its own it would never hold up in court.

But the moment I filed a police report, the blackmail texts and the photos would go into the system.

Then, when she filed for divorce, her lawyer would subpoena the report — and those same photos would come out the other side as official evidence. Clean. Legal.

A vicious piece of work. But this time she was going to be disappointed. As long as I didn't file, didn't pay, and didn't contact Sabine again, the whole thing stalled right here.

There was nothing she could do to me. Besides — I'd never once used that app to talk to Sabine.

Everything between us lived in an encrypted app that wiped itself after, no trace left. The rent went through the company as client entertainment.

Her daytoday money was all cash, no record of it anywhere. The only large sum was her mother's surgery, and that had gone through a friend's account.

Genevieve hadn't made a move in all this time, and that was probably because in six months she'd never gotten hold of anything solid.

Whatever she had came to a few stolen photographs at most. Thinking it through, I felt my chest loosen. I put the phone back on the nightstand and closed my eyes again.

Half an hour later the lock clicked. Genevieve was back. She pushed the door open with two plastic bags in her hand.

I opened my eyes and turned my head toward her. "Where'd you go?" She leaned against the doorframe and lifted the bags a little. "Couldn't sleep. Went and got breakfast.

You want some?" We didn't say a word to each other the whole time we ate. She didn't bring up the photos. I didn't bring up the account on her phone.

On the way to work, my phone rang. Sabine. The corner of my mouth lifted. The truth is, there's no such thing as real feeling between women.

Today you help me check up on my husband, tomorrow I help you catch the other woman. Everybody takes what they came for.

Genevieve thought planting Sabine next to me was a smart move. But she'd forgotten something. A relationship held together by money always breaks on money.

So there wasn't much left for me to think about. I picked up, and her voice came through soft and thick with sleep. "Vaughn!

I'm so sorry, I was out cold, I didn't hear your calls—" Chapter 5 "It's fine." "Did you need something today?" "Nothing major." I kept it casual. "Just — all that money I've given you over the past six months.

Add it up, and start paying back what you can." "Paying — paying it back?" She was fully awake now. "Vaughn… are you serious?" "Of course.

And for what it's worth, covering your mother's treatment and finding you that apartment, I did all that as a favor to your roommate. Money's a little tight for me lately.

If you've got some to spare, start with part of it. The rest isn't urgent." Two more seconds of quiet. "No, I don't — I don't understand, why?

We were fine yesterday." "As for why, you might want to look at yourself for that." I hung up. Phone back on the passenger seat. Engine on. I didn't drive to the office.

I took a long way around, left the car at the subway station, got in a rideshare, had it drop me in the alley behind the complex, and walked to the building across from Sabine's.

If I found this person, I could get the risk down to almost nothing. Whether Genevieve knew, whether Sabine was planted — that was a problem for the next round.

What I didn't expect was that just as I raised my hand to knock on 501, another text came through. Twenty thousand, and the photos are wiped.

Plus I forward you everything your wife does. A second later my eyes went wide. Because the person in the photo had changed. It was— Genevieve?

I looked at the picture and for a moment it didn't land