Chapter 125 RUN BEFORE HE FINDS YOU
Chapter 125 RUN BEFORE HE FINDS YOU
"Maybe. But right now, she's useful. And she's the only one who knows Rafael's mind."
The line crackled. A recorded voice announced five minutes remaining.
"Sophia," Alexander said quickly, "if this thing with David is connected to Rafael and I think it is then you need to get out of the brownstone.
Rafael knows where you live. He knows your routines. If David has been feeding him information…"
Sophia closed her eyes. "I can't keep running."
"Then don't run. But don't sit still either. Go somewhere he doesn't expect. Change your patterns. Don't be predictable."
"And Claire?"
"Bring her with you. If she's a target too, you're stronger together."
The line beeped. One minute.
"Alexander—"
"Keep Victoria safe," he said, voice rough. "That's all that matters. I'll be out of here soon. I'm fighting the sentence. My lawyers think they can get me out in six months, maybe less. Just hold on until then."
The line went dead.
Sophia sat in the dark nursery, the phone warm in her hand. Six months. Maybe less. But Rafael wasn't going to wait six months.
\---
CLAIRE'S APARTMENT — MIDNIGHT
Claire sat alone in her dark living room, staring at the text message. The private investigator had just sent her the first batch of files.
She opened them with shaking hands.
Bank records. Offshore accounts. Transactions dating back two years—before the wedding.
David had been moving money for years. Hundreds of thousands of dollars. But it wasn't embezzlement. He wasn't stealing from his company.
He was being paid.
By whom, the investigator couldn't trace. But the deposits came from a shell company registered in the Caymans. A company that, according to the investigator's notes, had ties to one name:
Castillo.
Claire's breath caught.
Her husband—the man she loved, the man she'd defended to Sophia, the man she'd chosen over her best friend at her wedding—had been working for Rafael Castillo. Before they were married. Throughout their marriage. Possibly still now.
She scrolled further. The most recent deposit was dated three days ago.
Claire set the phone down, her hands shaking so badly she could barely hold it.
She thought about the late nights. The secret calls. The distance. She thought it was another woman.
It was so much worse.
She picked up her phone and dialed Sophia.
"Sophia," she said when her friend answered, voice cracking. "It's not an affair. It's not an affair at all."
"What do you mean?"
Claire closed her eyes, tears streaming down her face. "David has been working for Rafael. For years. He's been feeding him information about all of us. About you. About Alexander. About everything."
The silence on the other end was deafening.
Then Sophia's voice, low and dangerous: "Are you sure?"
"I have the bank records. Offshore accounts. Payments going back years."
Claire's voice broke. "My marriage is a lie, Sophia. My whole life is a lie."
"Where is David now?"
Claire looked at the empty bed. "I don't know. He said he had a late meeting. He didn't come home."
"Don't confront him," Sophia said quickly. "Not alone. Not until we know more. Come to the brownstone. Now. Bring everything you have."
Claire wiped her face. "Sophia… I'm scared."
"We're going to figure this out. But you need to get out of there. Can you drive?"
"I… yes. I can drive."
"Good. Pack a bag. Don't tell anyone where you're going. I'll have Marcus meet you halfway."
Claire stood on shaking legs. "What if he comes back while I'm packing?"
"Then you leave. Right then. Don't argue. Don't explain. Just go."
Claire grabbed her keys, her laptop, the folder of evidence. She was halfway to the door when she heard it.
The front door unlocking.
David's voice, cheerful, casual: "Claire? You still awake? I brought dinner—I know it's late, but I figured—"
He stopped when he saw her standing in the hallway, laptop clutched to her chest, face streaked with tears.
"Claire? What's wrong?"
She looked at him—really looked—and saw nothing but a stranger.
"Who are you?" she whispered.
David's smile faltered. "What?"
"Who are you?" Claire repeated, her voice rising. "Because the man I married doesn't have secret bank accounts. The man I married isn't working for Rafael Castillo. The man I married isn't a liar!"
David's face went pale. "Claire, I don't know what you're talking about—"
"Don't." She held up her phone. "I have the records. I have everything. Two years, David. Two years you've been feeding him information. About Sophia. About Alexander. About everything."
David stepped forward, hand reaching out. "Let me explain—"
"Don't touch me!" Claire backed away, her voice cracking. "Was any of it real? The proposal? The wedding? Any of it?"
David's eyes flickered—something dark passing through them. "Claire, you need to calm down. We can talk about this—"
"I'm leaving." She grabbed the door handle. "Don't follow me. Don't call me. I'll have my lawyer contact you in the morning."
She was out the door before he could respond, running down the hallway, hitting the elevator button over and over.
Behind her, she heard the apartment door slam open.
"Claire!"
She didn't look back. The elevator doors opened. She dove inside, slamming the button for the lobby.
As the doors closed, she saw David standing in the hallway—and on his face, for the first time, she saw not love, not concern, but rage.
Claire pressed herself against the elevator wall, sobbing, as the doors slid shut.
\---
SOPHIA'S BROWNSTONE — TWENTY MINUTES LATER
Sophia paced the living room, Victoria's bassinet beside her. The baby stirred but didn't wake.
Marcus had called—he was ten minutes out with Claire. They'd taken back roads, doubled back twice to make sure they weren't followed.
Sophia's phone buzzed. She glanced at it, expecting Marcus.
It was a text from an unknown number.
"Your friend Julian. He's not the only one you destroyed. The truth is coming, Sophia. All of it."
She stared at the screen, her heart pounding.
Another buzz. Same number.
"David was just the beginning. How many people have you lied to, Sophia? How many lives did you destroy on your way to the top?"
Her fingers trembled as she typed back: Who is this?