CHAPTER 139: The Last Meeting

CHAPTER 139: The Last Meeting

Lisa's POV

The visit to the police station is surreal.
Detective Martinez is considerate, professional and surprisingly empathetic. It appears that the “worrisome report” was not directed towards me at all—it was a concerned citizen who saw the scene at my office when Andre showed up and security escorted him out.

They wanted to be certain I was safe, that I wasn't being harassed or stalked.

I tell her all. The divorce three years ago, about Andre’s recent contact, about Claire posing as me. I play her the recording from this morning, and I watch her expression harden with every word.

“This is identity theft,” she says. “Fraud. And potentially a lot more depending on what they told these investors.” She turns towards me. “Do you want to press charges?”

I‘m thinking about it. Really think about it.
I'm dying to. To see Andre and Claire being punished for what they did. They want to make them pay like I’ve paid.

“Can I just get this over with?” 

“Get me some time to think about it?” “I gave him two days to fix it. To call them all and tell them the truth. If he does – and I don’t think he will — then yes, I’ll press charges.”

She nods. “That’s fair. But ms reed? Even if he does confess, what he did is still illegal. You’d be perfectly justified to take this next step.” 

"I know. I just…” I take a breath. “I just want him out of my life.” If pressing charges means I have to go through that for months with court dates and hearings and all the rest, dealing with him, I don’t know it’s worth it.”

“I understand. Here's my card. Give me a call if anything else develops, or if you decide you want to go forward." She stands. "And Ms. Reed? Document everything. Keep that recording safe. Keep any texts, emails, any documentation of communication. If this goes up, you’re going to need it.”

I walk out of the station feeling oddly lighter. At least someone believes me. At least someone sees the truth.

But it's not the someone I need to believe me.



When I get home, I see Leo’s car in the driveway.
My heart leaps into my throat. It’s 3:15—he said 2 PM. I was supposed to be gone.

I park on the street and wait for a moment getting up my nerve. Maybe this is good. Maybe I can talk to him, show him the recording, make him understand. I see motion upstairs through the window.

It’s not the same house without him.

I inch my way up the stairs, each one a mile long. When I get to the bedroom door, I hesitate. Leo is yanking clothes out of the closet, folding them without thinking and putting them into a big suitcase on the bed. He’s dressed in jeans and a t-shirt — casual attire I never catch him wearing. He looks tired. Defeated.

He looks how I feel.
"Hi," I say softly.

He freezes, his back to me. “I thought you were going to be out.”

"I got back early. I was at the police station."

That makes him turn around. "The police station?"

"They called me. Someone reported Andre's scene at my office. They just wanted to check that I was okay." I take a tentative step into the room. "I told them everything. About Claire impersonating me. I played them the recording."

"Recording?"

“I met with Andre this morning. I recorded him confessing. He confessed that Claire has been posing as me, this includes meeting with investors, and even using your name.” The words tumble out fast, desperate. “I have proof, Leo. Proof that I’m telling the truth.”

He's quiet for a long moment, just looking at me. Then: "Can I hear it?"

Hope flares in my chest. "Yes. Yes, of course. "

I pull out my phone with trembling hands and play the recording. We both listen as Andre speaks, in silence, denying it all—Claire's idea, the three meetings, the fraud.

When it ends, Leo drops heavily onto the side of the bed.

"So it was true," he whispers. "So there was someone pretending to be really you." 

“‘Yes.’ I am getting down on my knees in front of him now from where I’m sitting so that I can look at his face. “I wasn’t lying, Leo. I’d never do that to you. Not ever.”

He looks at me, and I can tell there’s a battle going on in his mind. “I believe you.”

The words need to be a relief. What should feel like a victory. But his tone is wrong. Too flat. Too resigned.

“But?” I whisper, because I can hear it coming.

“But we can’t change what happened before.” He runs a hand through his hair. “You lied to me for a week. You still met with him without telling me. You still kept secrets.”

“I know. And I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry—”

“I know you are.” He gets up and moves away from me to keep packing. “And I know this impersonation thing wasn’t your fault. But Lisa, the damage is done. My business partner think I were your cheating on me. People in my professional circles have seen ‘you’ with your ex. This is hurting my reputation.”

“Andre will tell them the truth,” I say. I gave him forty-eight hours to contact everyone and explain—”

“And you think that will fix it? “ He turns to face me. “You think that people will simply forget? That there will be no whispers and no questions?”

“I don’t know!” Tears fall down my face. “But what else can I do? I can’t change what happened. I can only try to fix it.” 

“You just can’t make some things right.” His tone is gentle but resolute. “There is some damage that is permanent.”

“Do you mean to tell me that we’re permanently damaged?” The question comes out shattered.

He’s quiet for so long I think he won’t answer. Then: “I don't know. Maybe.”

The word shatters me. Maybe. Not yes, but not no either. Just... maybe.

He continues: “I need time. Real time. Away from you, away from this situation, away from all of it. I want to see if I can get over this."

“How long do I have?“ 

“I don’t know.”

“Days? Weeks? Months?" My voice rises with panic. “Give me something, Leo. A timeline or something.”

“I can’t.” He zips up the suitcase. “I can’t promise you anything right now except that I need space.”
He grabs his suitcase and heads for the door. I'm blocking his way, and for a moment we're just staring at one another.

“Ok love,” I whisper. “That has to count for something.”

“It counts for everything,” he replies. “But right now, it’s not enough.”

He goes around me, and I let him go. I follow him down the stairs, as he loads his things into his car, I am utterly powerless to do a thing.

“I’ll be in touch. When I’m ready.”

“Okay.” That’s all I can say.

He gets in the car and drives off, and I stand there watching until he rounds the corner. I go back inside close the door and I fall to the ground.

The tape verified that I was telling the truth. The police believe me. Detective Martinez believes me.

But it doesn't matter.
Because Leo remained the while.
And I’m still alone. 



I hide out for the rest of the day.

I should eat.

Instead, I just exist. Wandering aimlessly from room to room like a phantom, I can't settle down, I can't think about anything other than Leo's face when he said "maybe."

Maybe we're permanent damage.
Maybe we can't be fixed.
Maybe I’ve lost him forever.

My phone rings about 8 p.m. Unknown number. I almost don't answer, but something makes me pick up.

"Hello?"

"Lisa, it's David. Leo's business partner.”

I sit up straight. “David. Hi.”

“I… I owe you an apology.” He sounds uncomfortable. “I just got off the phone with Andre. He told me everything. About his wife impersonating you. About the fraud. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you.”

Relief floods through me. “He called you ?”

“Yes. Just now. He sounded... desperate. Scared. He confessed to everything.” David pauses. “I'm sorry I accused you.” 

"It's fine.I get why you thi-" 

"That's not okay," he cuts in. "I told Leo you were cheating on him. I hurt your relationship because I made assumptions. That's on me."

"Did you... did you tell Leo? That Andre called?”

"I tried. He's not answering his phone." David sighs. "Listen, I have no idea what the hell is going on with you two, and I don't need to know. For what it's worth, I think you’re good for him. I hope you can work it out."

"Thank you," I whisper. "That means a lot."

We hang up, and I immediately try calling Leo. It goes straight to voicemail.

I text him: David called. Andre admitted to him. He knows the truth now.

No response.

Over the next hour, my phone rings three more. Jennifer, regretting her assumptions. A business acquaintance of Leo's who saw "me" at the investment firm. Even the hostess from Pinnacle Restaurant, calling to say that a man had reached them and explained the situation.

Andre is staying true to his word. He’s telling everyone the truth.

But Leo still isn't answering. I don’t sleep that night either.

I’m lying in bed, phone on the pillow next to me, waiting for a text that will never come.
By the time morning rolls around, I’m tired and restless all at once. I brew some coffee and perch at the kitchen table, gazing into space.

My phone buzzes. Finally.

But it’s not Leo. It’s Andre.

I got ahold of them all. The entire eight who witnessed Claire. Now they know the truth. Sorry, Lisa. For everything. I'm not going to bother you. I promise.

I hold my gaze on the text for a long time. Then I type:

Good. Do not ever contact me again. I’m going to file charges and get a restraining order if either you or Claire come near me. Stay the hell out of my life.

I block the number again. This time forever.
It’s done. Andre is finally, truly out of my life.
But the one I want in my life—who is the only person who matters—is still gone.

I rest my head on the table and cry.



Three days later.
Silence from Leo for three days.

Three days of just getting by — work, eat, sleep, repeat.

It’s been three days and I’m still glued to my phone, waiting for that text that’s never coming.
The fourth day, I can't handle it any more.

I have to see him. Need to talk to him. Need to know if there is a chance for us, or if I should begin to accept that it’s really over. I know where he is -- the Marriott downtown. He said something about it once, early on, before it got this bad.

I can’t just show up. I know I shouldn't.

But I'm desperate.

I go to the hotel, drive in the parking garage and park. I'm just getting out of the car when I spot him.

Leo, making his way across the parking garage to his car. He's wearing a suit, carrying a briefcase, obviously going to work. 

And he's not alone.

A woman is with him. Tall, stunning, laughing at something he said. She touches his arm—casual, friendly, but the gesture still feels like a knife to my stomach.

They make it to his car, and she says something I can't hear. He smiles—actually smiles—and answers.

I can't bring to mind the last time I saw him smile.
They separate, hers going to her car, his getting into his. And I just sit there, frozen, as I watch the man I love drive off.

Who was she? A coworker? A friend? More than that?

No. I can’t think like that. Leo wouldn’t—

But then again, he thinks I was having dinner with my ex. Perhaps he's decided to move o a, too.
The thought makes me ill.

I remain seated in my car for a long time after they’ve left both, struggling to comprehend what I had been witness to.

Maybe Leo is right. Maybe we are permanent damage. Perhaps too much has happened, too much trust has been broken.

Perhaps it’s time to start realizing that it’s over. I drive home in a daze, pull into the driveway and enter the vacant house.

My phone is ringing. Leo's name on the screen.
You can skip the next paragraph as inspiration is given in the previous one about IWB. My heart stops.

I answer. "Hello?"

"Lisa. Can we talk?” His voice is wary, measured.

"Yes. Yes, certainly. When—"

"Tonight. Seven PM.A cafe on Mark street . Will you be able to meet me there?"

"I'll be there."

"Okay. See you then." 

This is it. This is the talk that decides everything.

Either we figure out a way forward.

Or we say goodbye.

And I don’t know which of those it’s going to be.