The word came out barely above a whisper.
“What did he say?” she asked.
“He said the hotel was recording guests again. He wanted evidence.”
“And what did you do?”
“I told him to leave it alone.”
Ana’s hand began shaking.
“You knew what Victor could do.”
“Yes.”
“You knew my brother was in danger.”
“Yes.”
“And you did nothing.”
Mark’s voice broke.
“I had a family.”
Ana struck him across the face.
He fell against the wall.
I flinched but didn’t stop her.
For seven years, I had believed Mark’s greatest flaw was avoiding conflict.
He left dishes beside the sink because he hated being asked to redo them.
He ignored overdue notices until I handled them.
He postponed hard conversations until they became arguments.
Now I understood.
Avoidance wasn’t a flaw.
It was his method of survival.
“What changed?” I asked.
Mark wiped blood from his mouth.
“Mateo sent me a file before he disappeared.”
Ana froze.
“What file?”
“A list of guests Victor had targeted.”
“Why didn’t you give it to police?”
“There was a detective’s name in it.”
“Which detective?”
“Paul.”
Ana’s face changed.
“That’s who took Mateo’s missing-person report.”
Mark nodded.
“I didn’t know who to trust.”
“So you did nothing for 11 months?”
“No.”
He looked at me.
“I contacted a federal investigator three weeks ago.”
My anger faltered.
“Then why come here?”
“They needed the original server. Victor keeps it off the network now.”
“And you thought bringing me was a good cover?”
“Our anniversary gave me a reason to book the suite.”
“You used me.”
“I was trying to protect you.”
“You brought me into a hotel run by blackmailers.”
“If I came alone, Victor would know.”
“So you made me bait.”
“No.”
“Then what was I?”
Mark couldn’t answer.
A bell rang above the elevator.
Someone was coming down.
Ana cut the ties around Mark’s wrists.
“Argue later.”
The elevator numbers changed.
Five.
Four.
Three.
Ana handed me the gun.
I stared at it.
“I’ve never used one.”
“You don’t have to shoot. Point it at the door.”
She and Mark moved to either side.
The number reached B.
The doors opened.
Victor stood inside with the second guard.
He saw the gun in my hands and smiled.
“Lena, your husband has made you part of something you don’t understand.”
“I understand enough.”
“Do you?”
He looked at Mark.
“Did he tell you whose recording paid for your house?”
Mark went still.
I looked at him.
“What does he mean?”
Victor’s smile widened.
“Ask your husband about Room 714.”
Mark whispered, “Don’t.”
“Who was in Room 714?”
Victor answered.
“Your father.”
The gun dipped.
My father had died two years before my wedding.
A heart attack, everyone said.
He had spent his final months withdrawn and terrified.
He sold his business.
Stopped answering friends.
One night, I found him sitting in the dark with every curtain closed.
He told me he had made a mistake.
I assumed he meant the affair my mother had discovered years earlier.
Victor watched the truth reach me.
“Your father was one of our first clients.”
“No.”
“He was recorded with a woman who worked for a competitor.”
Mark stepped toward me.
“Lena, I didn’t know he was your father when I copied the files.”
“But you knew later.”
His face collapsed.
“I found out after our second date.”
I could barely breathe.
“And you still married me.”
“I loved you.”
For full cooking steps, turn to the next page or click the Open button (>) and don't forget to SHARE with your Facebook friends.
