Chapter 3: The Husband in the Hospital Bed
I walked into Evan’s private room at 3:47 a.m.
He was sitting up in bed, the cut above his eyebrow now neatly stitched. The smell of smoke still clung to his hair. Denise sat in the chair beside him, her eyes red and swollen, still gripping the edge of the evidence bag that contained my father’s burned briefcase like it was a lifeline.
When Evan saw me, something like relief flickered across his face.
“Allison,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Thank God. Can you tell these detectives to back off? This is insane. I was trying to save documents from the fire—”
“Stop,” I said quietly.
He froze.
I closed the door behind me and walked to the foot of his bed. I didn’t sit. I didn’t touch him. I simply looked at the man I had been married to for four years.
“You were spreading accelerant across the warehouse floor,” I said. “There’s video. You and Denise. You weren’t saving anything. You were trying to destroy it.”
Denise made a small, panicked sound. Evan shot her a sharp look, then turned back to me.
“Allison, listen to me. Your father’s company was in trouble. There were bad contracts, old debts he never told you about. I was trying to protect you from the fallout—”
“Don’t lie to me in my own hospital,” I cut him off. My voice was calm, but I could feel the anger rising beneath it. “You didn’t even know I was working tonight. You thought you could burn down that warehouse and no one would ever connect it to you.”
Evan’s jaw tightened.
Denise suddenly stood up.
“This is your fault,” she snapped at me. “If you had just let Evan handle the company like your father should have, none of this would’ve happened. Robert never should have left everything to you. Evan built half of that company with him!”
I turned to look at her.
“My father left everything to me because he knew exactly what kind of man my husband is,” I said. “And apparently, he was right.”
Denise’s face flushed with anger, but she didn’t argue further.
I looked back at Evan.
“There was a third person in that warehouse,” I said. “Before you and Denise arrived. He was waiting for you.”
Evan went very still.
I watched his face carefully.
“You saw him,” I continued. “On the footage. You recognized him. That’s why you panicked and tried to burn everything.”
Evan’s breathing had changed. His eyes flicked toward Denise for half a second before returning to me.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said.
I leaned forward slightly.
“It was my father, Evan. Robert Bennett. He’s alive. And he was there.”
The silence that followed was thick.
Denise covered her mouth with both hands. Evan closed his eyes for a long moment, as if the last thread of control he had been holding onto had finally snapped.
When he opened them again, the mask was gone.
“He was supposed to be dead,” Evan said quietly. “We all thought he was dead.”
I felt something cold settle in my chest.
“You knew he might still be alive,” I said. It wasn’t a question.
Evan didn’t deny it.
“He contacted me three weeks ago,” he admitted. “Said he had evidence. Said he was going to expose everything. I thought he was bluffing. I thought the car accident had really killed him.”
“What evidence?” I asked.
Evan looked at me with something close to pity.
“You really have no idea what your father was involved in, do you?”
May you like
I didn’t answer.
Because for the first time, I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.
