Chapter 23 Chapter 23

Chapter 23 Chapter 23
Chapter 23
SELENE
I had two hours before lunch with Rosalie. Two hours to prepare myself for whatever revelations she planned to share. But first, I had something else I needed to do.
I went upstairs to retrieve the black card from its hiding place in my jewelry box. The embossed "D" gleamed up at me, and I ran my finger over it, feeling the slight texture of the raised letter. This stranger had helped me when no one else would. Surely I could trust him with one more request.
I pulled out my phone and stared at the number I'd saved under "David Chen." My finger hovered over it for a long moment before I finally pressed call.
It rang three times before a deep voice answered. "I was wondering when you'd use this number."
The voice sent a shiver down my spine—that same low rumble I remembered from our encounter on the street. "Is this D?"
"Among other things," he said, echoing his words from before. "How can I help you, Mrs. Sterling?"
The way he said my name—with a hint of knowing, like he understood exactly what my title meant and didn't mean—made me feel exposed.
"I need to ask you something," I said, moving to the window to ensure no one was nearby. "The money you're holding for me—is it possible to open a bank account? But not in my name."
There was a pause. "You want an untraceable account."
"Yes. If it's opened under my real name, my husband will find it. He monitors everything." The admission felt shameful, but necessary.
"I see." Another pause, longer this time. "That's possible. I can have my people set up a shell corporation, open an account in that company's name. You'll have full access through a debit card and PIN, but on paper, it won't be connected to you."
Relief flooded through me. "You can do that?"
"Mrs. Sterling, I can do many things." I could hear the smile in his voice. "The question is whether you trust me to do them."
Did I? I barely knew this man. He could be anyone, could have any number of ulterior motives for helping me. But he'd already paid me five hundred thousand dollars for items he could never use or resell—handbags and jewelry customized specifically for me, worthless to anyone else.
"Why are you helping me?" I asked. "You didn't have to buy those things. You knew they were personalized, that you couldn't do anything with them. So why did you?"
He was quiet for so long I thought he might not answer. When he finally spoke, his voice was softer, almost gentle. "Let's just say I recognize someone trying to escape a cage when I see one. I've been in a few cages myself."
The unexpected vulnerability in his words made my throat tight. "Thank you. For understanding."
"The account will be ready in forty-eight hours," he said, businesslike again. "I'll have someone deliver the card and information to you discreetly. Where would be safe?"
I thought quickly. "There's a café on Maple Street, The Daily Grind. I go there sometimes. Could your person meet me there?"
"Consider it done. Wednesday, two PM. My associate will be wearing a gray suit and carrying a black briefcase. Order a vanilla latte and sit by the window."
The specificity of the instructions made this feel real, dangerous. I was truly doing this—setting up secret accounts, planning my escape. There would be no going back after this.
"Thank you," I said. "I don't even know your real name, but thank you."
"D is fine for now," he said. "And Mrs. Sterling? Be careful. Men like your husband don't let go of their possessions easily. Even the ones they don't value."
The words sent a chill through me. "How do you know about Derek?"
"Everyone in this city knows about Derek Sterling," he said, his tone darkening. "And everyone knows to stay out of his way."
Before I could ask what he meant, the line went dead.
I stood there holding my phone, my mind racing. What had he meant by that? And how did a stranger see so clearly what I'd been living with for two years?
I pushed the questions aside and checked the time—eleven fifteen. I needed to leave soon if I was going to make it to the Rosewood Bistro by noon.
I changed into a simple dress—nothing too formal, nothing that would draw attention. As I was touching up my makeup, I caught sight of myself in the mirror. I looked different somehow. Harder. More determined. Like the frightened girl who'd married Derek Sterling was finally becoming someone who could fight back.
"We're going to be okay," I whispered to my reflection, my hand settling over my stomach. "I promise."
I grabbed my purse—the black card safely tucked inside—and headed downstairs. Mrs. Chen had left for her weekly grocery shopping, so the house was empty. Eerily quiet.
I took Derek's car—a sleek Mercedes he rarely drove, preferring his sports car for daily use. As I settled into the driver's seat and started the engine, I felt a small thrill of defiance. Taking his car, meeting with Rosalie, planning my escape. Small rebellions that were building toward something bigger.
The drive to the Rosewood Bistro should have taken about twenty minutes. I pulled out of the driveway and onto the main road, my mind already on the conversation I was about to have with Rosalie.
What would she tell me? What secrets was she finally ready to share?
I was so lost in thought that I almost didn't notice the car behind me. It was a black SUV with tinted windows, maintaining a steady distance. When I changed lanes, it changed lanes. When I slowed down, it slowed down.
My pulse quickened. I was being followed.
I told myself I was being paranoid, that this was just coincidence. Lots of people drove black SUVs. But then I noticed the second vehicle—another black SUV, this one pulling up beside me in the next lane.