It was Pamela. Emily suddenly realized it was the paralegal from her husband’s office, the same twenty-five-year-old woman Ethan often mentioned in casual conversation.
Pamela had a great idea to streamline the flow of documents.
Pamela was brilliant. Pamela stayed late to work overtime.
Now it was clear what they were streamlining after work.
A wave of nausea hit Emily, not from morning sickness but from the crushing weight of betrayal. Five years of marriage, one son, and another child on the way—twelve weeks along—and it meant so little to Ethan he could sit here, in public, wrapping his arms around someone else.
She wanted to approach them, make a scene, demand an explanation.
But something stopped her, a survival instinct or the discipline she’d learned from medicine: gather information first, then act.
Emily moved slowly, hiding behind other passengers, close enough to hear their conversation. Soon, the truth slid out of Ethan’s mouth as calmly as if he were ordering lunch.
“Soon everything will be settled,” Ethan said, stroking Pamela’s cheek.
“In court, we’ll get everything down to the last dime.”
“What if she suspects something?” Pamela’s voice sounded worried.
“Emily is too trusting,” Ethan said. “She’s a doctor, not a lawyer.
She doesn’t understand the complexities of estate law.”
He smirked, dismissive, cruel.
“Besides, she’s pregnant now—emotionally unstable. Even if she understood something, who would believe her?”
Emily gritted her teeth. Emotionally unstable—she would show him what instability looked like when it was finally pointed in the right direction.
Pamela’s worry didn’t stop.
“But what if she sees the documents?
The evidence… the will.”
“It’s all in my red folder,” Ethan said confidently, as if the folder were a locked vault. “And that folder is in my office. She has no access.”
Pamela exhaled, then asked the question that made Emily’s skin go cold.
“After the hearing… we’ll be millionaires?”
“After the hearing, we’ll be millionaires,” Ethan said, pleased with himself.
“And your wife… your son… we’ll get a divorce. I’ll leave her enough so she doesn’t starve.”
He said it like generosity.
“I’ll take the boy. A boy needs his father.”
Pamela’s eyes flicked toward his hand, still stroking hers.
“And the one on the way?”
Ethan shrugged.
“We’ll see.
Maybe it won’t even come to term with all this stress, you know.”
Emily felt blood rush to her face. This man—the father of her children—was calmly planning to destroy her life, not only to leave her but to rob her and take her son.
The boarding announcement cut through the terminal. Pamela stood, smoothing her dress, pretending she was just another traveler.
“They’re calling boarding for Miami,” she said.
“It’s time to go, honey.”
Miami, not Chicago. Another lie for the collection.
Ethan kissed her on the lips, long and passionate. Emily hadn’t received a kiss like that from him in over a year.
“In one week,” he whispered, “we’ll be free and rich.”
They walked toward the gate, and Emily watched them, feeling something inside her break.
It wasn’t her heart—that had already gone numb.
What broke were her illusions: her trust, her faith, the story she’d told herself about what kind of family she had. And as the initial pain subsided, it was replaced by something colder.
A calculating rage.
Ethan had underestimated his wife. Yes, she was a doctor, not a lawyer, but she was intelligent, observant, and she had an excellent memory.
And above all, she had something Ethan lacked: a conscience and principles.
The red folder, Emily repeated in her mind, as if naming it gave her control.
She had a second key to the office at home—Ethan had given it to her for emergencies.
It seemed the emergency had arrived.
Emily managed a faint smile for the first time in half an hour. Ethan wanted to play a game.
Fine.
But he had forgotten that in any game, there could only be one winner, and Emily Hayes had no intention of losing.
She took out her phone and dialed the number of Mrs. Davis, her son’s caregiver.
“Mrs.
Davis, it’s Emily. Could you watch Noah tonight?”
“Something urgent has come up that I need to attend to.”
“Yes… very urgent business.”
When Emily got home, four-year-old Noah greeted her at the door with a drawing of Mommy and Daddy holding hands with a little person next to them. He held it up like a trophy.
“Mommy, look.
It’s us—the family,” the boy said proudly.
Emily knelt and hugged her son, holding him tighter than she meant to. How would she explain there was no family anymore, that his father had chosen another woman and was ready to take everything from them?
“It’s beautiful, sweetie,” she said, kissing Noah on the head.
He looked up, bright-eyed.
“Where’s Daddy?”
Emily swallowed hard.
“He said he would bring me a toy from his business trip to far-away Miami.”
Mrs. Davis—the elderly caregiver who had helped raise Noah since he was born—looked at Emily carefully, seeing too much in her face.
“Honey, you’re very pale.
Is something wrong?”
“It’s nothing,” Emily lied. “I’m just tired.”
She forced her voice steady, like she was at work delivering calm news to a frightened patient.
“Mrs. Davis, I need to go to Ethan’s office.
It’s urgent.”
“Could you stay with Noah until tomorrow?”
“Of course,” Mrs. Davis said, still watching her. “But what’s so urgent that it can’t wait until he gets back?”
“It really can’t, Mrs.
Davis.”
Emily gave her son dinner, put him to bed, and read him a story about a good wizard who defeated evil witches. Noah fell asleep with a smile on his face.
If only everything were as easy as in fairy tales, she thought.
At ten o’clock that night, Emily got in her car and drove toward Park Avenue, where the law firm was located. Ethan had been a senior partner there for three years, a position with a high salary, prestige, and the kind of clients that made people sit up straighter when they heard the firm’s name.
All of it had provided their family with a comfortable life—or so she thought.
The firm occupied two floors of a modern skyscraper.
Ethan’s office was on the second floor in a corner of the building: large windows, mahogany furniture, leather armchairs.
Everything looked solid, expensive, and designed to inspire confidence.
Emily parked on a side street and looked around. The street was empty except for an occasional passerby and the hum of cars on the main avenue, and the surrounding offices were dark.
The workday had ended long ago.
She took out the small silver key with a keychain shaped like the scales of justice. She had given it to Ethan on their first anniversary.
“Justice above all else,” he had said.
Emily’s mouth tightened.
“What a cruel irony.”
The door opened easily.
She slipped inside, telling herself there must have been employees working overtime in their offices, that she wouldn’t be the only living soul in the building.
She went up to the second floor, careful that her heels didn’t make a sound on the marble staircase.
Ethan’s office greeted her with the scent of leather and expensive cologne. On the desk were neat piles of documents; in a corner, a safe; along the wall, shelves full of binders.
None of them read RED.
Emily turned on the desk lamp and began her investigation. First, she looked in the desk drawers—standard paperwork, pens, stamps.
In the bottom drawer, she found a USB drive labeled PERSONAL.
She took it.
She might need it.
Then she went to the filing cabinet. The files were arranged alphabetically and by subject—wills, deeds of sale, inheritance cases.
Many binders, but none labeled the thing she was hunting.
“Where could it be?” she whispered.
Emily searched behind the expensive modern art painting, in the safe, under the rug. Then her gaze fell on a small cabinet in the corner of the office.
It was locked with a common padlock.
Strange.
Why lock a cabinet in your own office?
Emily tried several keys from Ethan’s keychain. The third one fit.
The cabinet door opened, and before her eyes were several red folders neatly stacked on a shelf.
There they were.
Her heart raced. The first folder was labeled ANDRADE, M.
The last name didn’t ring a bell.
Emily opened it and saw the will of an elderly woman leaving an apartment and a country house to Ethan Hayes.
The second folder: CASTRO, P.N.—a will with a large sum of money in favor of the same Ethan Hayes.
The third folder: JENNINGS, C.S.—and this last name was familiar. Emily remembered her great-aunt Catherine, her late mother’s sister, who had passed away six months ago, childless and alone.
Catherine had planned to leave her inheritance to her only grandniece.
Emily opened the folder, and her breath caught. There, in black and white, was a will in which all of Catherine’s properties—an apartment on the Upper East Side valued at $800,000, a house in the Berkshires, and her bank savings—passed to Ethan Hayes as a close family friend.
Emily’s hands shook.
“You bastard,” she whispered.
She herself had seen her aunt’s original will.
Catherine had shown it to her a month before she died, and it had been clear as daylight:
“I bequeath all my assets to my grandniece, Emily Hayes.”
Signature. Date. Notary seal.
All in accordance with the law.
Now, in front of her, was a fake document—and a very well-made one.
Ethan had used his position to replace the documents.
Emily took out her phone and photographed every page of the forged will.
Then she examined the rest of the folders.
There were seven in total.
Seven forged wills worth a total of over seven million dollars.
How long had he been doing this?
Judging by the dates, the fraud had begun three years ago—right when Ethan was promoted and gained access to the wills. And she didn’t just find fake wills.
She found a second cell phone belonging to Ethan.
She unlocked it using their son’s birth date. A model father.
On the screen were text messages between Ethan and Pamela.
Of course—why else would he need a second phone if he was “working late” or “traveling”?
“Honey, I settled another document today,” Ethan wrote. “Old man Morales didn’t even realize he was not signing a will for his grandson, but a deed of gift in my favor. When he dies, a mansion in Greenwich will be ours.”
“Love, you are a genius,” Pamela replied.
“Soon we can buy a villa in Italy and live there like royalty and let your wife stay with her medicines and her patients.”
“Pamela, we just have to close the last case—my wife’s inheritance.
That’s where most of the money is.”
“After that, we will disappear. I will file for divorce, take the boy, and we will both go to Italy.”
Emily read the messages, feeling a mixture of rage and disgust. Not only were they cheating on her, but they were robbing defenseless elderly people.
How many families had lost their inheritance because of their greed?
She photographed all the messages.
Then she opened Ethan’s laptop.
The password was the same as the phones: their son’s birthday.
A model father.
In his email, she found even more evidence—diagrams of the fraud, lists of victims, money-laundering plans, all perfectly organized and hidden.
Arrogant fool, Emily thought as she copied the files to the USB drive. Ethan was so sure of himself he hadn’t even bothered to encrypt the information.
After the computer, she returned to the red folders. In one of them, a document made her turn pale.
A petition to strip her of her parental rights over Noah, based on the defendant’s mental instability and her inability to provide adequate care for the minor.
Emily read on.
The document was dated for the next day.
So that was the plan: first get the inheritance with the fake will, then take the child by claiming she was not mentally fit after losing the money—while Pamela would take her place as wife and mother in their new life.
That was not going to happen.
Emily returned all the folders to the cabinet and locked it. She had the evidence.
She knew the enemy’s plan.
It was time to prepare the counterattack.
She turned off the light, closed the office, and went down to the first floor. Outside, a light drizzle was falling, turning the streetlights into smeared halos.
Emily got in the car and picked up her phone.
It was too late for business calls, but in the morning the real battle would begin.
Ethan expected an easy victory in court against his trusting wife. Instead, he was about to receive a lesson he would never forget.
In the morning, Emily woke with a steely determination. The previous night had brought her not only proof of her husband’s infidelity, but the full scale of his crimes.
She knew what she had to do.
First, she took Noah to daycare and warned the teacher that only she or Mrs.
Davis could pick up the child. Ethan was not to get near their son until everything was settled.
Then she went to her job at the health clinic and requested a leave of absence for family matters.
When she got home, she locked herself in her study and opened her laptop. Online, she found the contact information for several renowned lawyers specializing in family and criminal law.
The first number answered immediately.
“Roth and Associates.”
“Good morning.
My name is Emily Hayes. I need an urgent consultation regarding fraud and document forgery.”
“One moment, please. I will connect you with Mr.
Roth. He handles those cases himself.”
Constantine Roth was a man in his forties with a pleasant voice and a professional demeanor. After hearing a brief summary of the situation, he agreed to meet her in two hours.
“Bring all the documents and evidence you have,” he advised.
“If everything you are telling me is true, we could be looking at a very serious case.”
Emily’s next call was to a private investigator, Andrew Castle, recommended by a colleague from the clinic.
“I need a background check on two people,” she explained.
“Ethan Hayes, a senior partner at a law firm, and Pamela Serrano, twenty-five years old, his paralegal.
I am particularly interested in their financial situation, connections, and possible accomplices.”
“Understood,” Castle said. “The standard fee is five thousand dollars for a complete dossier on each. It will take us three days.”
“I need the results sooner,” Emily said.
“I’ll pay extra for the urgency.”
After speaking with the detective, Emily tackled the most delicate part of the plan: contacting the families Ethan had defrauded.
In the red folders, she had seen the addresses and phone numbers of the deceased testators’ relatives.
The first call was to the grandson of Antonio Morales, the same elderly man Ethan had made sign a deed of gift instead of a will.
“Hello, Max Morales.”
“Yes. Who is this?”
“My name is Emily Hayes. I’m the wife of the lawyer, Ethan Hayes, who handled your grandmother’s documents.”
“Oh… yes, I remember.
Why are you calling?”
“I have very bad news for you. Your grandmother was the victim of a fraud. Instead of a will in your favor, she signed a deed of gift to my husband.”
There was a long silence.
“What?
What are you saying?” Max finally breathed.
“My grandmother wanted to leave me the house.”
“Exactly,” Emily said. “And I’m willing to help you get justice. I have proof.”
The conversation lasted half an hour.
Max was in shock, but he agreed to meet and discuss details.
Emily gave him her contact information and promised to call him in the next few days.
The rest of the calls followed a similar pattern: the daughter of Vladimir Castro, the nephew of Maria Andrade, the son of George Pacheco.
They all believed their relatives had died without leaving an inheritance, but in reality a cunning lawyer had stolen it.
By noon, Emily had a complete database of the victims. The total damage exceeded twenty million dollars.
Ethan and Pamela had set up a veritable criminal organization.
At one o’clock, Emily arrived at Mr. Roth’s office.
Constantine was tall and pleasant-looking, and his office had a classic design: dark furniture, leatherbound books, portraits of famous jurists.
“Well, Emily,” he said as he sat behind his desk, “let’s see what you have brought me.”
Emily took out the printouts of the photos from the red folders, the copies of the emails, and the list of victims.
Roth studied the documents in silence, occasionally raising an eyebrow or nodding.
“The scale of this is astonishing,” he said finally.
“Your husband has created an entire system for stealing inheritances, and he has acted with incredible skill, professionally forging documents.”
Emily’s throat tightened.
“What will happen to me?” she asked. “I’m the wife of a con man.”
“If you are not part of the system, nothing,” Roth said.
“In fact, you are a victim. Your husband planned to strip you of your inheritance and take your son.
Plus, there are the emotional damages for the infidelity.”
“And what will happen to him with this evidence?”
“Grand larceny, forgery of a public document, abuse of power—at least ten years in prison, maybe more.”
Emily felt a strange satisfaction.
Justice would be served.
“What do I need to do?” she asked.
“First, file a complaint with the NYPD. I’ll help you draft it correctly,” Roth said.
“Second, gather all the victims and organize a class action lawsuit with the district attorney’s office.”
“Third, file for divorce and request full custody of your son.”
“And what if Ethan tries to flee? He’s abroad right now.”
“We will issue an international arrest warrant,” Roth said.
“With this evidence, he will not get very far.”
They talked for another hour, discussing strategy. Roth agreed to represent Emily and the victim families.
The fees were not low, but the outcome would be worth it.
Leaving the lawyer’s office, Emily felt relieved. The plan was in motion.
She had allies, and the evidence was gathered.
All that was left was to wait for her husband’s return and put an end to the lie.
On her way home, she stopped by the bank and checked the status of their joint accounts.
Large sums of money had been withdrawn.
Ethan was preparing to flee.
But in her personal account—opened before she got married—was the money she had saved over years of working as a doctor. It was enough for the lawyer and expenses for the next few months.
At home, Emily made herself chamomile tea and sat down to analyze the information.
Detective Castle had already sent preliminary data on Pamela Serrano. He discovered that Pamela was married to Victor Serrano, a construction engineer.
They lived in a small apartment on the outskirts of Queens.
They had debts and a modest income.
Victor had no idea about his wife’s activities.
Another deceived spouse, Emily thought.
She looked up Victor Serrano’s profile on social media: an ordinary thirty-year-old man, photos at work, family photos with Pamela.
In the latest ones from a month ago, they looked like a happy couple.
Pamela was hugging her husband, smiling at the camera.
A month later, she was planning to run away with her lover.
Emily sent Victor a private message.
“Good afternoon. I am Emily Hayes. I need to talk to you about your wife, Pamela.
It is a matter concerning your family. Could we meet tonight?”
The reply came within half an hour.
“What happened? Pamela is on a business trip.
She’s not back for a week.”
“That is precisely what we need to talk about,” Emily wrote. “It seems not everything is as you believe.”
Victor agreed to meet at a coffee shop near his home at seven that evening.
Emily picked up Noah from daycare, gave him dinner, and left him with Mrs. Davis.
Noah asked when Daddy would be back, and Emily vaguely replied:
“Soon.”
The coffee shop was small and cozy, with checkered tablecloths and the smell of freshly baked pastries. Victor Serrano was already sitting at a table in the corner, nervously looking at his watch.
He was of average height with a kind face and worried eyes.
“Emily Hayes?” he asked, standing when he saw her.
“Yes,” she said. “Thank you for agreeing to meet.”
They ordered coffee, and Emily got straight to the point.
“Victor, what I’m about to tell you may come as a shock, but you have the right to know the truth.”
“Did something happen to Pamela?”
“In a way, yes,” Emily said.
“Your wife is cheating on you with my husband, and together they are involved in a large-scale fraud scheme.”
Victor’s face turned pale.
“That’s impossible. Pamela wouldn’t be capable of that.”
“Yes, she is,” Emily said, and slid the printouts across the table: the text messages, and the photos she’d taken at the airport.
Victor read in silence. His left eyelid twitched.
“Since when?” he asked finally, voice thin.
“According to the messages, for a year, maybe more,” Emily said.
“And the fraud—they’re stealing inheritances from elderly people.
Pamela helps Ethan forge wills. In three years, they’ve stolen over twenty million dollars.”
Victor pushed the papers away and rubbed his face with his hands.
“My God. I thought we were fine,” he whispered.
“She said she was working overtime for our future.”
“They were planning to disappear,” Emily said.
“They only had one last job left—my inheritance. Then they planned to resign and move to Italy. Pamela was going to file for divorce.”
“In the messages, she refers to you as a burden she had to get rid of.”
Victor clenched his fists.
Anger and pain rose in his kind eyes.
“Three years of marriage,” he said. “I was crazy about her. I worked two jobs to support us.”
He couldn’t finish the sentence.
Emily kept her voice steady.
“Victor, I understand how painful this is.
It is for me too. But we have an opportunity to get justice.”
“What do you suggest?” he asked.
“We join forces,” Emily said. “I’ve already spoken with a lawyer.
I’ve contacted the victim families. Tomorrow, I’ll file a complaint with the NYPD.”
“You can be a witness to the infidelity and Pamela’s involvement in the fraud.”
Victor stared at the table.
“And what will happen then?”
“Ethan faces a minimum of ten years in prison,” Emily said.
“Pamela will lose her job, her reputation, and possibly go to jail as well. All the stolen money will be returned to its rightful heirs.”
Victor was silent for a long moment, weighing the offer, swallowing whatever tenderness he still had for the woman who’d betrayed him.
“You know,” he said finally, “I consider myself a good person.
I do not wish harm on anyone, not even my enemies.”
“But what Pamela did—it’s a betrayal, not just to me, but to all those elderly people they robbed.”
Emily held his gaze.
“So you agree to help?”
“Yes,” Victor said. “I do.”
They talked for another hour. Victor agreed to monitor Pamela upon her return, record conversations, and gather more evidence.
Before leaving, he added something practical.
“I have copies of all of Pamela’s documents—passport, tax returns—when we applied for a loan, the bank asked for everything.
Maybe it will be useful.”
“I’m sure it will,” Emily said.
“Thank you, Victor. If it weren’t for you, I’d still be living a lie.”
At home, a surprise awaited her. Detective Castle sent a detailed report on the financial status of Ethan and Pamela.
In three years, they had purchased several properties in the names of straw men: a condo in Marbella, a house in the mountains, a plot of land in a subdivision outside the city—all bought with stolen money.
In addition, Castle uncovered accounts in tax havens in Cyprus and Switzerland.
The total amount of savings exceeded seven million dollars.
Ethan and Pamela were preparing for a life of luxury abroad.
But they would not get it.
Emily went to bed late, but she slept soundly. Tomorrow, the most important day would begin.
Ethan and Pamela would return from their “business trip” and discover their plans had fallen apart.
Emily Hayes, from a victim, had become a hunter.
The next day, Emily woke with the feeling that her life would change completely today. The sun was shining outside, an almost insulting kind of optimism.
She had breakfast with Noah, took him to daycare, and then headed to the central NYPD precinct.
Inspector Williams, the officer on duty, listened attentively.
When Emily placed the folder of evidence on the table, his eyes widened.
“Grand larceny,” he muttered as he reviewed the documents.
“This is enough for a whole organization. They’re returning from abroad soon. If we do not act, they could escape.”
“Understood,” he said, and shouted down the hall.
“Detective Vargas!”
Maria Vargas—a woman in her mid-forties, dressed in a formal suit—entered with the expression of someone who did not mess around.
“What do we have?” she asked, sitting down.
Williams summarized the situation. Vargas took the documents and studied them with professional interest.
“Good work,” she said after ten minutes.
“Emily, where did you get such detailed material?”
“I accidentally discovered my husband’s plans and decided to do my own investigation,” Emily said.
Vargas’s gaze sharpened.
“Breaking into someone else’s office is a crime.”
“I used the key my husband gave me personally, and I did not steal any documents,” Emily said.
“I only photographed them.”
Vargas nodded.
“Technically, you are right. Besides, the public benefit of your action is clear.
We will open a case and the arrests.”
“As soon as your husband sets foot in the country, we will arrest him. We have sufficient grounds.”
Emily signed the complaint and gave a detailed statement. The process took three hours.
Leaving the police station, she felt the law on her side.
Her next stop was Mr.
Roth’s office. Constantine already had documents prepared to file in court: divorce petition, request for full custody of the child, division of assets.
He also listed compensation for emotional damages.
“Five hundred thousand dollars,” Roth said.
“Isn’t that too much?” Emily asked.
“No,” he said. “Considering the infidelity, the attempt to strip you of your inheritance and take your son, it’s even a little.”
“But the courts are conservative.
They rarely award such large sums. So at least we have a basis.”
At three in the afternoon, Emily met with representatives of the victim families. Max Morales came with his mother, an elderly woman who could barely hold back tears.
“My mother-in-law wanted to leave the house to her grandson,” she said.
“She worked her whole life saving every penny, and that scoundrel stole it all.”
Vladimir Castro’s daughter, Solidad, was more determined.
“I want that lawyer to rot in jail,” she said.
“My father left me an apartment and savings for my children’s education. Because of Hayes, my children might not be able to finish their studies.”
In total, seven families gathered. The total damage amounted to nearly twenty million dollars.
Roth explained the process of filing a class action lawsuit and assured them the stolen assets could be returned.
“When Hayes is arrested, we will freeze his assets,” Roth said.
“Apartments, country houses, bank accounts, cars—everything will go toward paying compensation to the victims.”
In the evening, Emily received a message from Victor.
“Pamela told me she’s coming back tomorrow morning.
I’m ready for the conversation.”
“Good luck,” Emily replied.
“Remember—record everything.”
At ten at night, Detective Castle called.
“Emily, I have news. Your husband and his mistress landed at JFK an hour ago. They’re in a taxi right now.”
“Thank you,” Emily said.
So the most exciting part starts tomorrow.
Emily went to bed early, but she had trouble falling asleep.
Tomorrow, Ethan would discover his plans had failed.
Would he try to flee, feign ignorance, or surrender immediately?
At six-thirty in the morning, a call woke her. Ethan’s number appeared on the screen.
“Hello,” she answered calmly.
“Emily, it’s me. I’ve landed,” Ethan said, voice normal, not a trace of guilt.
“How was the trip?
Did you like Chicago?” Emily asked.
“Yes, everything was fine,” he said. “Hey, today I have to go to court for your aunt’s inheritance case. Remember I told you about it?”
“Yes, I remember,” Emily said.
“And what will happen?”
“It’s just formalities.
The will is in order, but there’s a small detail to correct. There will be no problems.”
Emily smiled to herself. Even now, he was lying.
“Ethan, can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“How is Pamela?
Did she have a business trip too?”
The silence that followed was too long for such a simple question.
“Pamela… oh, yes. She’s fine,” Ethan said. “Why?”
“For no reason,” Emily said.
“You mention her a lot lately.”
“She’s a good employee. That’s all,” Ethan snapped.
“Well, I have to get ready. See you tonight.”
“Of course, dear,” Emily said.
She hung up and smiled.
Ethan did not yet know that his case today would turn into a monumental disaster.
Detective Vargas had promised he would be arrested upon arrival at the courthouse.
At eight in the morning, Emily took Noah to daycare and headed to the courthouse.
She wanted to see with her own eyes how the world of the man who had planned to destroy her life would crumble.
The courthouse greeted her with its usual hustle and bustle: lawyers, plaintiffs, defendants, witnesses, all rushing from one place to another.
Emily found the courtroom where the case of Catherine Jennings’s inheritance would be heard.
At nine-thirty, Ethan arrived. He wore his best suit and carried a briefcase with documents.
He looked confident and calm.
Beside him walked Pamela in a discreet black dress. Her demeanor was professional, but Emily noticed how Ethan discreetly brushed his assistant’s hand.
“We’ll get the last million and be free,” Emily heard him say.
Yes—free of money, of work, of reputation, Emily answered silently.
At ten o’clock, the hearing did not begin.
The judge—Judge Elena Macarena—had already been informed that a criminal about to flee the country would be in the courtroom.
Ethan sat with Pamela. Emily entered with Mr. Roth.
Ethan saw his wife and turned pale.
“Emily, what are you doing here?”
“Defending my rights, dear,” Emily said.
“The right to Aunt Catherine’s inheritance—which you plan to steal.”
“What are you talking about?” Ethan stood.
“What proof?”
“Proof that you forged the will,” Emily said, “and proof of your systematic fraud.”
“That is absurd,” Ethan said. “I’m a lawyer with an impeccable reputation.”
“Impeccable—until yesterday,” Emily replied.
At that moment, two people in plain clothes entered the courtroom: Detective Vargas and an officer.
Ethan saw them and stepped back.
“Ethan Hayes,” Vargas said. “You are under arrest for the crimes of grand larceny and forgery of a public document.
You have the right to remain silent.”
“What? You’re mistaken,” Ethan stammered.
Pamela rose, but the second officer was already approaching her.
“Pamela Serrano, you are under arrest as an accomplice in the crime.”
“I didn’t do anything,” Pamela shouted. “It was his idea!”
“We will discuss that at the station,” the officer replied.
They put handcuffs on Ethan.
He turned to Emily, shock and incomprehension in his eyes.
“Emily, what is happening? It’s a mistake, right?”
“There is no mistake, Ethan,” Emily said.
“You wanted to rob me and take my son, but you miscalculated. It turns out I’m not the foolish, credulous wife you thought I was.”
“But we’re a family,” Ethan pleaded.
“The family ended when you decided to cheat on me with Pamela,” Emily said.
“And especially when you started robbing defenseless elderly people.”
They took Ethan and Pamela out of the courtroom.
Pamela was crying.
Ethan walked in silence, head bowed.
The judge postponed the hearing until the circumstances were clarified.
“Congratulations,” Roth said, shaking Emily’s hand. “The first blow was a direct hit.”
“But this is just the beginning. There’s a lot of work ahead.”
Leaving the courthouse, Emily felt a strange peace.
Revenge was a dish best served cold, and today Ethan had tasted the first bite.
At noon, Victor Serrano called.
His voice sounded tired and confused.
“Emily… Pamela has not come home. I’m worried.”
“Victor, sit down,” Emily said.
“What I’m about to tell you is going to hurt.”
She told him what had happened at the courthouse. Victor listened in silence, sighing from time to time.
“So they arrested her,” he said.
“Yes,” Emily said.
“She is in a detention center right now, along with my almost ex-husband.”
“Ex-husband?”
“I filed for divorce this morning,” Emily said. “After what he has done, we have no future.”
“And what will happen to Pamela?”
“It depends,” Emily said.
“If she cooperates with the investigation and testifies against Ethan, she might get a suspended sentence. If she remains stubborn, she faces several years as an accomplice—three to seven years.”
Victor was quiet.
“You know,” he said finally, “I thought I would feel sorry for her, but I don’t.
She didn’t just cheat on me—she cheated on all the people they robbed. Let the law deal with her.”
“The detective will want to talk to you,” Emily said. “Your testimony matters.”
“Of course,” Victor said.
“I’m willing to help.”
In the afternoon, Emily picked up Noah from daycare. The boy asked where Daddy was.
Emily answered honestly.
“Daddy did something wrong. Now he has to answer for it.”
Noah’s lip trembled.
“And will he come back?”
“Not soon,” Emily said.
“Maybe he will never come back. Now it will just be you and me. You, me… and everything will be okay.”
Noah nodded like a little four-year-old philosopher.
“Mommy, you will not leave me, right?”
“Never, my love,” Emily said.
“Mommy will never leave you.”
The next day, the real work began.
Detective Vargas summoned Emily for a detailed statement that lasted four hours. At the end, Vargas said something that made Emily blink.
“Emily, thanks to you, we have uncovered a huge fraudulent scheme. It turns out there are more victims than we thought.”
“How many?” Emily asked.
“For now, twelve families.
The total damage exceeds thirty-five million dollars.”
Emily was astonished. Her husband’s crime was even greater than she had imagined.
“And the accomplices besides Pamela Serrano,” Vargas added, “we have identified two more. The real estate appraiser, Andrew Cabrera, and the real estate agent, Tatiana Navaro.
They helped manage transactions with the stolen properties.”
“Will they be arrested too?” Emily asked.
“We already arrested them last night,” Vargas said.
After the interrogation, Emily went straight to see her lawyer. Roth greeted her with more good news.
“The court has accepted your divorce petition for processing,” he said.
“Given the circumstances, the process will be quick. And custody—Ethan will lose parental rights due to his arrest and the criminal case.
Noah will stay with you.”
“And the properties?” Emily asked.
“All of Ethan’s assets are frozen,” Roth said.
“Apartments, country houses, bank accounts, cars—everything will go toward paying compensation to the victims. You will get half of the marital property not related to the crime. That is the apartment where you live now.”
“In addition, monetary compensation for your share in other properties and your aunt’s inheritance.
The fake will has been declared null and void. You will get everything that is yours—the apartment on the Upper East Side, the house in the mountains, the bank deposits.”
Emily calculated mentally. Including the inheritance, she would become a wealthy woman with enough for a comfortable life.
By the way, about the child.
In the last days of stress, Emily had almost forgotten about her pregnancy.
Suddenly she felt a pang low in her abdomen.
“Constantine,” she said, hand pressing lightly to her stomach, “excuse me. I have to go. I do not feel well.”
“Of course,” Roth said.
“Take care of yourself.”
On the way home, the pain intensified. Emily stopped at a pharmacy, but dizziness washed over her and everything went black.
Emily woke in a hospital. Doctors and nurses moved around her, and the words they delivered felt like a sentence.
She had lost the baby.
The pregnancy had been terminated.
Emily cried until she was empty.
When she calmed down, she called Mrs. Davis and asked her to pick up Noah from daycare and take him to her house.
Emily spent three days in the hospital.
When she returned home, she decided she had to move on. She had Noah, and he needed a happy, healthy, loving mother.
An hour later, Mrs.
Davis brought her son. Emily hugged him and decided not to tell him yet that his little brother was no longer in Mommy’s belly.
That evening, Detective Castle called.
“Emily, I have news about your husband’s financial dealings.”
“I’m listening,” Emily said.
“We found three more accounts in tax havens. The total sum of stolen money exceeds forty-five million dollars.
Ethan prepared his escape thoroughly.”
“Can that money be recovered?”
“We’re in contact with international agencies,” Castle said. “The process is complex, but there is a chance.”
The next day, Emily received an unexpected call.
It was Pamela Serrano, calling from the detention center.
“Emily… it’s Pamela. They gave me one call.”
“I want to tell everything—testify against Ethan.
But I have one condition.”
“What is it?”
“Meet with me. There are things you need to know… about what Ethan planned to do to you and your son. It’s much worse than you think.”
Emily agreed to meet.
Curiosity overcame her aversion.
The detention center was a grim building in an industrial park. The visiting room was bare: walls, a table, two chairs, bars on the window.
Pamela looked terrible—hair messy, clothes wrinkled, eyes red from crying. There was no trace of the self-assured young woman from the airport.
“Thank you for coming,” Pamela said weakly.
“I’m listening,” Emily replied.
“I want you to know I never wanted to hurt you,” Pamela said.
“Ethan told me you two hadn’t loved each other for a long time, that divorce was inevitable.
I believed him. I was in love—blind and stupid.”
“He promised he would marry me. That we would buy a house in Italy.
Children…”
Pamela swallowed.
“Emily, I’m pregnant—with Ethan’s child. I found out last week.”
Emily felt something tear inside her, a sharp contrast to her own loss.
“Why do you think it’s Ethan’s?” Emily asked.
“My husband and I were careful because I was going to leave him for yours,” Pamela said.
“And what else did you want to tell me about Ethan’s plans?”
Pamela hesitated, then forced the words out.
“He did not just plan to divorce you. He planned to kill you after you gave birth—make it look like an accident, or postpartum depression.”
Emily felt her blood run cold.
“Are you kidding me?” she whispered.
“No,” Pamela said.
“He has contacts in the criminal world—people who know how to eliminate obstacles. Ethan said it was simpler. No need to divide assets in the divorce.”
Emily stared at her.
“And you kept quiet?”
“I thought he wasn’t serious,” Pamela said quickly.
“That it was just words.”
“And when did you realize he was serious?”
“When he showed me pictures of those people,” Pamela said. “He told me how they worked. Then I got scared, but it was too late.
I was his accomplice.”
Emily’s hands tightened into fists.
“Pamela, do you have proof?”
“Text messages with those people,” Pamela said. “Ethan thought he deleted them all, but I took screenshots. I saved them on a USB drive.”
“Where is the drive?”
“At my house—in a box on my dresser.
A small pink one.”
Emily’s voice stayed flat.
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I realized Ethan is a monster,” Pamela said, crying. “He used me just like he used you and everyone else. And when he didn’t need me, he would have discarded me too.”
“And Victor—my husband—he’s a good man.
I was an idiot to betray him. Now I want to redeem part of my guilt.”
“What do you want in return?” Emily asked.
“Tell Victor I’m sorry,” Pamela said. “And let him know the truth about the child.”
After the meeting, Emily went straight to Detective Vargas.
The new information radically changed the case.
“A contract killing?” Vargas asked. “Are you sure?”
“Pamela is willing to testify and has evidence,” Emily said.
“Then this is not just fraud,” Vargas said. “It’s an organized crime group.
We need an additional operation.”
Vargas organized a search of Pamela’s apartment. Victor let them in and showed them where the USB drive was.
There they found the messages from Ethan to two individuals: Miguel Moreno and Dennis Castano, men with criminal records.
“We need to solve the problem with the wife radically,” Ethan had written.
“After she gives birth, she is depressed. A suicide would not be surprising.”
“Understood,” Moreno replied.
“The payment? Two hundred thousand. Half upfront, half after.”
“Agreed,” Ethan replied.
Emily read the messages, feeling a chilling terror.
A normal person planned a vacation.
Ethan planned a death.
“We need to arrest Moreno and Castano,” Vargas said.
“Do you have any information on them?”
“No,” Emily admitted, “but I can ask Detective Castle.
He has contacts.”
Castle responded quickly. In two hours, he sent dossiers on the two suspects.
Miguel Moreno: a hitman with two murder convictions.
Dennis Castano: his partner, an expert in simulating accidents.
Professionals.
“If their plan had succeeded,” Vargas said, “you would not have suspected anything. In a few months, you would have been the victim of an accident.”
That evening, Emily met Victor.
He looked sad but firm.
“Did Pamela send you any message?” he asked.
“She asks for your forgiveness,” Emily said, “and she wants you to know she’s pregnant.”
Victor turned pale.
“With his child?”
“Yes,” Emily said. “According to her, you two were careful. With him, she was not.”
“And now Pamela realizes Ethan just used her.
She regrets it.”
Victor’s jaw tightened.
“And what will happen to the child?”
“That’s her decision,” Emily said. “But if she has it, she’ll raise it alone. Ethan will be in prison a long time.”
Victor’s eyes hardened.
“I cannot forgive her after all this,” he said.
“That is your right,” Emily answered.
“No one will judge you.”
The next day, Moreno and Castano were arrested. In the search, weapons, false documents, and messages from other clients were found.
It turned out Ethan was just one of the group’s many clients.
“This is turning into a federal case,” Vargas said.
“Attempted murder will be added to the fraud charge. Now he is not facing ten years, but much more.”
Emily felt a strange satisfaction.
Justice had completely triumphed.
A week after the arrest of Moreno and Castano, the investigation escalated again. Emily received a summons, but it was not Vargas’s office that awaited her.
It was a large conference room.
At a long table sat several people in suits. In the center was a man in his fifties with medals on his uniform.
“Emily,” Vargas said, “let me introduce you to Colonel Samuel Black, head of the organized crime unit.”
Black’s expression was serious.
“Please have a seat,” he said.
“What we are about to discuss must remain in the strictest confidence.”
“We have questions,” he continued.
“Go ahead,” Emily said.
“I’m listening.”
“Thanks to you, we have uncovered a large criminal network,” Black said.
“But we have reason to believe your husband is not the leader—just an enforcer.”
“You mean he has a boss?” Emily asked.
“Someone provides him information about potential victims, organizes the sale of stolen properties, and gives him protection,” Black said.
“Pamela Serrano has given an additional statement. It turns out Ethan met regularly with a certain Uncle Nick.”
“He gave him a share of the profits and received instructions for new targets.”
“And who is this Uncle Nick?” Emily asked.
“We don’t know yet,” Black said.
He slid a folder of photos across the table. Security cameras had captured Ethan meeting with an older man near a restaurant on the Upper East Side.
The man’s face was turned away, but his figure was visible.
“Does this look familiar to you?” Black asked.
“No,” Emily said.
“I’ve never seen him.”
Black nodded.
“Then another question,” he said.
“Ethan had access to a notary database, but information about private clients—their income, properties—came from somewhere else. Judging by the thefts, he had a source in the IRS or the banking system. Someone was passing him data on wealthy elderly people.”
Emily frowned.
It was true. How had Ethan known the clients’ marital status, their heirs, the size of their savings?
Black watched her carefully.
“That is why we need your help,” he said.
“But for that, Ethan has to contact his boss himself.”
“And why would he do that?” Emily asked.
“If he thinks he can escape,” Black said. “Or if we promise reduced sentencing in exchange for cooperation.”
Emily’s eyes widened.
“You mean you’ll break him out of jail?”
“Of course—under our control,” Black said.
“Ethan will try to contact his boss and ask for help.
We will catch the contact and get to Uncle Nick. The risk is minimal. Ethan will be under constant surveillance.”
Black leaned forward.
“But first, you need to visit your husband in jail.
Tell him you’re willing to forgive him. Maybe he will share information.”
Emily swallowed.
“But I filed for divorce.”
“Tell him you changed your mind,” Black said.
“That love is stronger than resentment. Convince him you’re sincere.”
Emily agreed.
The next day, she went to the detention center where Ethan was being held.
Her husband looked terrible: unshaven, thin, in a prison uniform.
There was nothing left of his former arrogance.
“Emily,” Ethan said, voice cracking. “I can’t believe it. You came?”
“Yes,” Emily said.
“I came.”
She sat down across from him.
“How is Noah? And the baby? Forgive me.
I was a fool. Pamela tricked me. The money blinded me.”
“They’re fine,” Emily lied.
Ethan’s eyes filled with hope.
“I’ve been thinking a lot about us,” Emily said.
“About our family.”
“And what conclusion did you come to?” Ethan whispered.
“That I don’t want to destroy our family because of your mistakes,” Emily said.
“Yes, you were wrong. But we can fix everything.”
Ethan leaned forward, desperate.
“You’re willing to forgive me?”
“I am,” Emily said.
“On one condition—tell me the whole truth about your accomplices. About who helped you, who gave you information.
Maybe the investigation will be lenient. Maybe they’ll reduce your sentence.”
Ethan hesitated.
“Emily, it’s complicated,” he said. “There are people.
It’s better not to bother them.”
“What kind of people?” Emily asked.
“Influential,” Ethan whispered. “Connected to the government. If I talk, not only will I suffer…”
“Ethan, you’re facing life in prison,” Emily said.
“There can be nothing worse.”
Ethan’s eyes darted.
“Yes, there is,” he said.
“People like me do not last long in prison, especially if they find out I have ratted out the wrong people.”
“Who are you talking about?” Emily asked.
Ethan looked around to make sure the guard wasn’t listening.
“Uncle Nick,” he said. “Nicholas Ortega—deputy commissioner of the IRS.”
Emily fought to keep her face neutral.
“He runs the whole operation.”
“What exactly does he do?” she asked.
“He provides information on wealthy taxpayers,” Ethan said.
“Lists of properties. Data on heirs.
Marital status. And he provides protection. If any relative suspects, he buries the case in exchange for…”
“For what?”
“Half of the profits,” Ethan said.
“Ortega takes the largest share, but he runs the greatest risk.”
Ethan’s mouth twisted.
“And now he probably wants to get rid of me. I know too much about his connections, his foreign accounts, his shell companies.”
Emily kept her voice soft.
“What if the investigation guarantees your safety?”
Ethan gave a humorless laugh.
“What safety? Ortega has connections in the DA’s office, in the courts, in the prison.
He will get to me anywhere.”
Emily realized she had obtained crucial information. Now she had to use it correctly.
“And what if you escape?” she asked.
“Escape to where?” Ethan said.
“I’m in a detention center. Anything can happen—a transfer to court, a medical checkup.
Even if I escape, where would I go without money, without documents? To see Uncle Nick?”
“He will help you if you are useful to him,” Emily said.
Ethan’s eyes narrowed.
“Ortega would only help me hide if I’m useful. And right now, I’m a risk.”
“But if you offer him something valuable?” Emily pressed.
“Like what?”
“Information about the investigation—what they know and what they don’t.
Warn him.”
Ethan thought about it.
“Maybe you’re right,” he said.
“If I tell Ortega how the investigation is going, maybe he’ll help me flee the country.”
“Try to contact him from here,” Emily said.
“All calls are monitored,” Ethan said. “Through a lawyer… or by passing a note.”
Then he looked at her, suspicious.
“Emily, are you sure you’re on my side? You’re not working for them?”
Emily pretended to be hurt.
“Ethan, I’m your wife—the mother of your children.
Of course I’m on your side.”
Ethan’s shoulders sagged.
“Sorry,” he murmured. “I think I’m going crazy in these walls.”
“I understand,” Emily said.
“The important thing is we find a way to get you out of here.”
Ethan believed her. He promised to try to contact Ortega.
Emily left with a sense of victory.
In the car, she immediately called Colonel Black.
“Samuel, I have a name—Nicholas Ortega, deputy commissioner of the IRS.”
Black exhaled sharply.
“Ortega. We have long suspected his corruption, but we had no proof. Now we will.”
“Ethan is willing to contact him.
Excellent. Let’s start the operation.”
The operation to capture Ortega was called Operation Vengeance.
Colonel Black personally supervised every stage. Emily had been a crucial part of the chain, but her active participation ended there.
“From now on, it is too dangerous,” Black explained.
“Ortega is a serious adversary.
If he finds out you are working for us, he might try to eliminate you.”
Emily agreed to stay on the sidelines, but asked to be kept informed. Black promised regular updates.
Three days later, Ethan’s escape was staged.
During a transfer to the courthouse, the prisoner transport van had an accident. In the chaos, Ethan escaped.
In reality, he was released under the control of agents.
Ethan ran and borrowed a cell phone from a student, pretending to call an ambulance for an old man who had fallen on the corner.
From memory, he dialed Ortega’s number.
“Nicholas, it’s Ethan.”
“Are you crazy calling me directly?” Ortega snapped.
“I have no choice.
I escaped, but they will find me soon. I need help.”
“What help?”
“Documents. Money.
A way out of the country.”
“And why would I help you? You are burned.”
“I have information about the investigation,” Ethan said.
“What information?”
“They know about you. They’re looking for a certain Uncle Nick.
They are about to locate you.”
“Where are you now?” Ortega asked.
“In the city—with a borrowed phone.”
Ortega’s voice lowered.
“Then hide in the basement of an abandoned building—Vasquez Street, number fifteen. Back basement. Wait there.
In an hour, someone will come for you.”
The call cut off.
Ethan returned the phone to the stunned student and headed to the indicated location, followed by agents from a distance.
An hour later, a black Audi with tinted windows arrived at the building. Two men in leather jackets got out and entered the basement.
“Ethan,” one of them called.
“I’m here,” Ethan answered from the darkness.
“Let’s go. The boss is waiting for you.”
They put Ethan in the car and took him away.
Three teams followed them, alternating cars and motorcycles.
They could not lose the target.
The Audi stopped near a luxury restaurant—The Monarch on the Gold Coast. They took Ethan through the back entrance to a private office on the second floor.
Behind a large desk sat Nicholas Ortega, a man in his sixties with gray hair and a cold gaze. Beside him stood two bodyguards.
“Well, well, Ethan,” Ortega said with irritation.
“What a mess you have made.”
“Nicholas, it’s not my fault,” Ethan blurted. “My wife turned out to be smarter than I thought.”
“Your wife is a minor problem,” Ortega said.
“The problem is that you got caught. And that means you are dragging us all down.”
“But I haven’t said anything,” Ethan insisted.
“I’ve been quiet as a tomb.”
“For now,” Ortega said. “But what will happen when you face life in prison? You will sing like a canary.”
“I’ll keep quiet.
I promise.”
Ortega’s eyes were flat.
“Ethan, you have disappointed me. I invested a lot in you. I gave you the chance to make millions, and you ruined everything for a woman.”
“Give me a chance to fix it,” Ethan begged.
“Help me get out of the country.
I will disappear forever.”
Ortega smiled dismissively.
“Abroad? Do you take me for a fool? In a month, you would rat me out to foreign special services in exchange for asylum.”
“No, I’m not a traitor.”
“Everyone is a traitor, Ethan,” Ortega said.
“When life is at stake, everyone betrays.
I have a more radical idea.”
Ethan swallowed.
“You die today,” Ortega said.
“In an escape attempt, the dead do not testify.”
Ethan turned pale.
“Nicholas, you can’t do that.”
“I can. And I will,” Ortega said.
He turned to his bodyguards.
“Alejandro. Victor.
Take him to the woods. Let him be breakfast for the wild dogs.”
The bodyguards approached Ethan. He backed away.
“Wait,” he gasped.
“I have information.”
“What information?” Ortega asked, bored.
“About the investigation. They are planning an operation against you. They know about your accounts.”
Ortega’s gaze sharpened.
“How do you know?”
“My wife told me,” Ethan said.
“She’s collaborating with the investigation.”
Ortega turned sharply.
“What did you say? Your wife works for the police?”
“Yes,” Ethan said. “She found out about your plans.
They plan to arrest you tomorrow.”
“You’re lying,” Ortega hissed.
“No,” Ethan said. “Check it if you want.”
At that moment, the office door burst open.
Agents in bulletproof vests flooded the room.
“Hands up!”
Ortega tried to draw a weapon, but he was quickly subdued. His bodyguards did not resist.
They knew they were finished.
“Nicholas Ortega,” an agent said, “you are under arrest for organizing a criminal group, corruption, and involvement in fraud.”
Ortega looked at Ethan with pure hatred.
“In the end, you betrayed me,” he spat.
“You bastard.”
“First, I did not want to,” Ethan said, voice shaking.
“You will rot in jail, rat,” Ortega snarled.
Colonel Black himself stepped forward and put the handcuffs on Ortega.
“The game is over, Nicholas,” Black said.
“We know about your foreign accounts, your shell companies, your bribes.
There is enough for several life sentences.”
The arrest of Ortega was a bombshell. A corrupt official—the mastermind of a criminal scheme—brought down in one operation.
Cases like this made the front pages of the newspapers.
Emily saw the news on television: Ethan and Ortega in handcuffs, images of raids, experts explaining the scandal.
Justice had triumphed.
That evening, Colonel Black called Emily.
“The operation was a success,” he said.
“Thanks to you, we have dismantled the largest corruption scheme in recent years.”
“And what happened to the other accomplices?” Emily asked.
“All arrested,” Black said.
“Ortega’s people at the IRS, the real estate agents, the appraisers—the entire network has been dismantled.”
“How many years are they facing?”
“Many. The court will decide.
And damages—assets are frozen. The victim families will receive full compensation.”
A week later, the divorce hearing for Emily and Ethan was held. The process took half an hour.
Given the circumstances, the court saw no reason to maintain the marriage.
Leaving the courthouse, Emily felt light.
A dark chapter of her life had ended.
Ahead was a new beginning.
Victor Serrano had also divorced.
Pamela signed all the documents without resistance.
She was sentenced to three years thanks to her cooperation with the investigation.
Pamela decided to have the child.
Six months passed since Ethan’s arrest.
Emily’s life changed completely.
She received her aunt’s inheritance, sold the apartment, and bought a large house in a subdivision outside New York—quiet, with a garden where Noah, now five, could play.
She worked in a small private clinic with good income and flexible hours, enough time for her son.
Noah adapted quickly. Children, in general, adapt easily to change.
He went to a new daycare and made friends with neighborhood kids.
He no longer asked about his father.
One night during dinner, Noah asked:
“Mommy, will I get a new daddy?”
Emily paused.
“I don’t know, sweetie. Would you like that?”
“I want one who is good and doesn’t hurt us.”
“If we get a new daddy,” she promised, “he will be good.”
Emily wasn’t lying.
After everything that had happened, she had become cautious.
Trust had to be earned.
Victor Serrano became a frequent visitor to her home. At first he came for work-related matters—helping with repairs, fixing things.
Then the visits became more frequent, and less professional.
Victor turned out to be a wonderful man: honest, reliable, hardworking.
He got along with Noah immediately.
The boy was drawn to him, sensing sincerity and kindness.
One day Noah asked, looking up at him with a child’s fearless hope:
“Uncle Victor, can you be my daddy?”
Victor blushed and looked at Emily.
“That is not for me to decide, Noah,” he said.
“The grown-ups decide that.”
“But I want you to be my daddy,” Noah insisted.
“You are good.”
That evening, when Noah was asleep, Emily and Victor talked in the kitchen over coffee.
Victor’s hands were tense on the mug.
“Emily, I have to tell you something,” he began.
“I love coming here,” Victor said. “I love being with you and Noah.
I feel at home.”
Emily’s voice softened.
“I like your company too.”
Victor swallowed.
“I think… I mean… I have…”
Emily tilted her head.
“Victor, just say it.”
“I am in love with you,” Victor said.
“I know it might sound strange. We’ve both been through betrayal, but I think we can overcome it.”
Emily was silent, weighing her words. She liked Victor too, but after Ethan, she was afraid to open her heart again.
“Victor, I need time to think,” she said.
“Of course,” Victor answered.
“I’m in no hurry. I just wanted you to know how I feel.”
They saw each other for three more months before Emily agreed to a serious relationship.
Victor was patient, understanding what she’d been through and not pressuring her.
Their wedding was simple, with only close friends. Mr.
Roth attended—over time he had become not just a lawyer, but a true friend.
“Emily, you are incredibly brave,” Roth said in a toast.
“Few women are capable of fighting so masterfully for justice. You are an inspiration.”
Colonel Black sent a telegram.
“I wish you all the happiness. Your courage uncovered a huge criminal scheme.
You are a true hero.”
In the evening, the newlyweds were alone. Noah was sleeping.
Emily and Victor sat on the terrace, looking at the stars.
“Are you happy?” Emily asked.
“What do you mean?” Victor said.
“For having joined your life with a woman with a past like mine.”
Victor’s answer came quietly, steady as stone.
“Emily, your past is what shows what a strong person you are. You did not break.
You did not become bitter. You did not give up.”
“On the contrary—you fought until the end. There are very few women like that.”
Emily tried to joke, because humor was easier than fear.
“And you’re not afraid I’ll discover something again?”
Victor laughed, then turned serious.
“I am terrified,” he admitted.
“That is why I will always be honest with you.
It would hurt me more to deceive you than anything else.”
They laughed together, but the promise stayed.
In the year they had known each other, Victor never gave her a reason to doubt.
He was an open book—no secrets, no double lives.
The trial of Ethan Hayes, Nicholas Ortega, and their accomplices was widely covered by the media.
They called it the case of the century—a victory for justice.
Emily attended the sessions as a victim and witness.
It was painful to see Ethan again, but it was necessary.
That story had to be put to rest.
Ethan looked terrible. He had lost weight, gone gray, and his eyes had lost their sparkle.
There was nothing left of the arrogant lawyer.
In his testimony, he tried to justify himself.
“I did not want to hurt my wife,” he said. “I was confused.
I was influenced.”
“Influenced by whom?” the prosecutor asked.
“By Ortega. He forced me into the scheme. He threatened me.”
“And the attempted murder of your wife—did he force you to do that too?” the prosecutor asked.
“I was not going to kill her,” Ethan said.
“They were just words.”
“We have text messages with the hitmen,” the prosecutor said.
“You paid a down payment of one hundred thousand dollars.”
Ethan was silent.
There was no point in pretending.
The evidence was overwhelming.
Ortega was more dignified. He did not justify himself. He did not blame anyone.
He remained silent or answered in monosyllables.
“Do you admit your guilt?” the judge asked.
“In what exactly?” Ortega said.
“In corruption.
The rest—let the court decide.”
The trial lasted three months. Dozens of witnesses were questioned.
Hundreds of documents were reviewed.
The sentences were harsh.
Nicholas Ortega was sentenced to life in prison.
Ethan Hayes—to thirty-one years.
Pamela—to three years.
Leaving the courthouse, Emily felt relieved.
Finally, the story was over.
Outside, Victor was waiting with Noah.
“How did it go?” Victor asked, hugging her.
“It’s over,” Emily said.
“He got thirty-one years. That is a long time.
It’s fair.”
“And how do you feel?” Victor asked.
Emily thought about it. Joy, satisfaction, pity—everything had burned down to a single clean word.
“Peace,” she said.
“Justice has been served. Now we can move on.”
That evening at home, they celebrated the end of the trial with a simple family toast.
In just over a year, everything had changed.
From being a cheated wife, Emily had become a happily married woman.
From a victim, she had become someone who brought justice to many families.
From a person who was almost robbed and killed, she had become someone who built a life without lies, without betrayal, without fear.
Five years passed since Ethan’s arrest.
During that time, Emily’s life settled down completely.
She continued to work.
Her reputation as a doctor was impeccable.
Patients appreciated her professionalism and humanity.
Her family grew.
Three years ago, she and Victor had a daughter, Anna. She became the center of their universe.
Noah adored his little sister and helped his parents take care of her.
“Now we have a big family,” Victor said once, watching the children at the table.
Emily was happy too.
After all the trials, she valued the warmth of home, loyalty, and the simple happiness of motherhood even more.
Ethan was serving his sentence in a maximum-security prison.
In five years, he never wrote, called, or tried to see his son.
Noah had almost forgotten his biological father. To him, his father was Victor.
One morning Noah asked, face serious with the kind of questions children carry like stones.
“Where is my real daddy?”
“He lives very far away,” Emily said.
“He did something bad, and now he is paying for it.”
“Not soon,” Emily said.
“And even if he comes back, we will not have contact with him.”
“Why?” Noah asked.
“Because he hurt our family,” Emily said.
“And you have to stay away from people who hurt you.”
Noah nodded like a little philosopher.
Children understand more than adults think.
Pamela served her sentence and moved to another city.
According to rumors, she got married.
Emily was no longer interested in her fate. That chapter was closed.
Ortega received an additional sentence for trying to bribe the prison administration.
The victim families received full compensation.
Many of them remained friends with Emily, grateful for her help.
On her birthday, Max Morales came with his wife, and Solidad Castro came with her children.
They had become not just acquaintances, but true friends.
“You saved our family,” Max’s mother said.
“If it weren’t for you, we would have lost the house our grandmother left us.”
“I was just defending myself,” Emily replied.
“Helping others was something that came up.”
Mr. Roth was also a frequent visitor.
They were united not only by professional friendship, but personal loyalty.
“Emily, you changed my life,” he confessed once.
“Working on your case showed me that law can be not just a business but a service to justice.”
“And what has changed?” Emily asked.
“Now I take cases not only from wealthy clients,” Roth said.
“I help ordinary people who have been victims of scammers.”
“That is wonderful,” Emily said.
“It means our story brought something good—not just to our family.”
From time to time, Colonel Black called.
“How are you, Emily?” he would ask.
“Very well, Samuel,” she would say.
“We live quietly—raising the children and no crime stories.”
“No more,” Black would reply.
“Thank God. Once was enough.”
He once joked:
“It’s a shame. You would make a great detective.”
“Thank you,” Emily laughed, “but I prefer to heal people than to catch criminals.”
On the fifth anniversary of Ethan’s arrest, the family went to their country house.
They spent weekends and holidays there, by the river.
They received guests and organized family parties.
Anna, already three, climbed into Emily’s lap and asked:
“Mommy, tell me the story of the bad uncle.”
“What bad uncle?” Emily asked softly.
“The one who wanted to take our house.”
The children knew a general version of the story, without frightening details, adapted for them.
“Once upon a time,” Emily began, “there was a bad uncle who cheated people.”
“He stole their houses and their money. And he also wanted to steal our house.”
Anna’s eyes widened.
“And what did Mommy do?”
“Mommy found out his plans and told the police,” Emily said.
“And the police caught the bad uncle and put him in jail.”
“And he will not get out?” Anna asked.
“And when he gets out, we will live somewhere else. But Daddy Victor will still be with us.”
“Of course,” Anna said, satisfied, and ran off to play with her brother.
Emily followed her with her gaze, thinking about how life had changed.
Five years ago, she had been the unhappy wife of a con man, ignorant of her husband’s double life.
Now she was a happy mother of two, a successful doctor, and the beloved wife of a good man.
Victor came over, hugged her, and sat down beside her.
They were silent, holding hands, each thinking their own thoughts.
Somewhere, Ethan was serving his sentence, thinking about how stupidly he had lost everything.
Pamela was raising a child in another city, trying to forget.
Ortega was spending his last days in a cell.
And Emily had built a new life on the ruins of the old one—without lies, without betrayal, without fear.
Family secrets—that was what this story could be called.
But the secrets were revealed, and the family found a new happiness: honest, deserved, and built on the solid foundation of truth.
