It was real.
Marcus wasn't merely investing money.
He was preparing a home.
A home with a bedroom specifically planned for his daughter.
A family home.
Just not one he'd told his wife about.
I took one step backward.
A motion light snapped on.
Then an alarm began screaming.
Tessa grabbed my arm.
"We're leaving."
Headlights appeared at the end of the driveway.
My heart slammed against my ribs.
A security vehicle arrived first.
Behind it was a black pickup.
Marcus's pickup.
"No," I whispered.
The truck stopped hard.
Marcus jumped out.
"Elena?"
He looked genuinely stunned.
Then another vehicle pulled in.
Camille.
Of course.
Marcus walked toward me.
"What are you doing here?"
The absurdity of the question almost made me laugh.
"What am I doing here?"
He glanced at Tessa, then at my phone.
"You followed me?"
I stepped toward him.
"One hundred seventy-six thousand dollars."
His expression changed.
I continued.
"Eighteen-five. Twenty-four. Thirty-one-two. Sixteen-seven-fifty. Should I keep going?"
Marcus went pale.
"You looked at the company accounts."
"I saved that company."
"Elena—"
"You told me it was still struggling."
"It was—"
"No. It recovered months ago."
Camille had climbed out of her car.
She looked confused.
Marcus said, "Please let me explain."
I pointed toward Camille.
"Explain her."
Camille's eyebrows rose.
"Me?"
"Yes, you."
"Elena," Marcus said sharply.
"No. I watched you pick her up. I watched you disappear into this house with her for hours. I watched her hug you."
Camille stared at Marcus.
Then at me.
And suddenly something dawned on her face.
"Oh."
That single syllable infuriated me.
"Oh?"
She covered her mouth.
"You think Marcus and I are—"
"Don't insult me by pretending the thought is ridiculous."
"It is ridiculous," she said. "I'm married."
I laughed bitterly.
"Congratulations."
"My wife is named Dana."
That stopped me.
Camille pulled out her phone.
The lock screen showed her standing beside another woman and two teenage boys on a beach.
I looked at Marcus.
He rubbed both hands over his face.
"Camille is a real estate broker."
I said nothing.
"She also manages renovations for investment properties," he continued. "That's what the transfers were for."
"Then why the secrecy?"
Marcus looked toward the farmhouse.
I followed his gaze.
"And why," I asked slowly, "does Sophie have a bedroom in there?"
Marcus's shoulders dropped.
"Because Sophie is going to live here."
Something inside me broke.
I actually stepped backward.
"So that's it."
"What?"
"You were planning to leave."
Marcus looked horrified.
"Leave you?"
"Who else?"
"No."
"Then who exactly is supposed to live here with Sophie?"
Marcus stared at me.
Then he said two words I wasn't prepared for.
"You are."
I blinked.
"What?"
"This is your house."
For several seconds, I genuinely couldn't understand the sentence.
Marcus pointed behind me.
"Not mine. Not Camille's. Yours."
"Stop."
"I'm serious."
"No."
"Elena—"
"Do not turn this into some ridiculous explanation because you got caught."
He didn't argue.
Instead, he reached into his truck and pulled out a flashlight.
"Come with me."
I didn't move.
"Please."
Tessa touched my arm.
"Maybe hear him."
I followed Marcus around the side of the farmhouse.
The light swept across the property.
That was when I saw what darkness had hidden.
Behind the house stood a restored barn.
Not new.
Old timber.
Fresh roof.
A row of repaired stall doors.
Beyond it, new fencing stretched across the field.
Near the eastern side of the property stood the frame of a chicken coop.
The opening faced the rising sun.
Exactly east.
My feet stopped.
Marcus noticed.
"You told me about your grandmother's chickens on our third date."
I said nothing.
"You said she always complained that your grandfather built the first coop facing the wrong direction, so she made him rebuild it where morning light came through."
My throat closed.
Nobody remembered that story.
At least, I hadn't thought anyone did.
Marcus continued walking.
"There's space behind the barn for a garden."
The flashlight moved.
Raised beds had already been marked into the earth.
"And Camille found an agricultural contractor who can restore the old orchard."
I stared across the field.
Apple trees.
Young ones.
Rows of them.
My knees suddenly felt unreliable.
"What is this?"
Marcus's voice softened.
"The dream you gave up."
I turned toward him.
He looked exhausted now.
Not guilty.
Not defensive.
Just scared.
"When my company finally received the hotel payment, I wanted to tell you immediately," he said.
"Then why didn't you?"
"Because I knew what you'd say."
"You don't know what I would say."
"Yes, I do. You would've told me to rebuild the business first. Pay down debt. Keep a reserve. Be responsible."
"Because that would have been responsible."
"I did all of that."
