Wade returned home that afternoon, walking through his house like a crime scene investigator. Everything looked normal, but now he knew what to look for.
The safe in his study had been opened and closed, but whoever had done it was skilled. No scratches on the lock. No disturbed dust patterns.
Professional. He checked the hidden camera he’d installed in his study years ago after a break-in scare. The timestamp showed Patrick Mullins in Wade’s private space at 11.23 p.m., photographing documents, copying files, and pocketing what looked like Wade’s emergency cash reserve and backup credit cards.
But the most chilling moment came when Patrick held up Wade’s wedding photo, smiled at it like he was sharing a private joke, then carefully placed it face-down on the desk. Wade watched the footage three times, memorizing every detail of Patrick’s movements, his expressions, his casual violation of everything Wade held sacred. Then he made a decision that would have consequences far beyond what Jessica and Patrick could imagine.
He called his old friend Clarence Combs. Clarence ran a security consulting firm, which was a polite way of saying he handled problems that couldn’t be solved through legal channels. They’d grown up in the same neighborhood, and when Clarence’s daughter had needed surgery that insurance wouldn’t cover, Wade had paid for it without being asked.
That kind of debt ran deeper than money. Clarence, I need a full team. Surveillance, counter-surveillance, and asset protection.
And I need people who understand that some problems require permanent solutions. How permanent are we talking, Wade? I’ll let you know. Within hours, Wade’s house was wired with professional surveillance equipment that made Oliver’s setup look like children’s toys.
But more importantly, Clarence had provided something even more valuable. Information. Your boy Patrick has debts, Clarence reported over dinner at a truck stop outside town.
Serious debts. To serious people. He owes money to some Russian import-export specialists who don’t accept payment plans.
Word is, he needs a big score soon. Or he’s going to have more problems than a cheating wife can solve. How much does he owe? Quarter million.
Plus interest that compounds daily. Wade leaned back in his booth, pieces clicking into place. So, Jessica isn’t just his target.
She’s his lifeline. Gets better. I ran some checks on your wife’s financial activity.
She’s been moving money for months. Small amounts, different accounts. Always just under the reporting thresholds.
Someone taught her how to wash money without triggering flags. The waitress refilled Wade’s coffee. And he waited until she was gone before speaking.
How much? Best estimate? She’s moved about $400,000 over the past year. Money that came from your business accounts, your personal savings, even small amounts from your retirement fund. Wade’s vision went red around the edges.
For $100,000. Money that represented years of 18-hour days. Deals made in back alleys and boardrooms.
Risks that had paid off through sweat and blood and sheer force of will. There’s more. Clarence continued.
The money didn’t just disappear. It’s been invested. Real estate purchases in Patrick’s name.
Some offshore accounts. A few business ventures that don’t exist on paper. They’ve been building a future together, Wade.
A future financed by your past. Wade set down his coffee cup with deliberate care. I want to know everything.
Every account. Every purchase. Every lie they’ve told each other.
I want to know what they eat for breakfast and what they dream about at night. And then… Wade met his old friend’s eyes. And Clarence saw something there that made him glad they were on the same side.
Then I’m going to give them exactly what they deserve. That night, Wade lay in his bed. The bed he’d shared with Jessica for 15 years and stared at the ceiling.
Tomorrow, he would begin implementing a plan that would make Patrick and Jessica’s betrayal look like a children’s game. They thought they were stealing his life, but they were about to discover that some men couldn’t be stolen from. They could only be awakened.
His phone buzzed with another text from Jessica. Miss you. Home.
Tomorrow night. Can’t wait to see you. Wade typed back.
Can’t wait either. We need to talk about our future. For once, he was telling the truth…
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