Chapter 2: My Cousin Showed Me What My Wife Had Hidden
Chapter 2: My Cousin Showed Me What My Wife Had Hidden
The message from my wife was only four words.
Don’t trust my cousin.
I stared at the screen.
Then I looked up.
My cousin was still standing beside the locked front door.
She hadn’t seen the message.
At least, I thought she hadn’t.
“What did she send you?” she asked.
“Nothing important.”
She smiled.
“You’re a terrible liar.”
I slipped my phone into my pocket.
“Open the door.”
She shook her head.
“Not yet.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
She reached into her handbag again.
This time, she pulled out a small black memory card inside a transparent plastic case.
I stared at it.
“What is that?”
“A copy.”
“Of what?”
“Something your wife didn’t want you to see.”
My heart began beating faster.
I held out my hand.
She didn’t give it to me.
Instead, she walked toward the kitchen table and placed it there.
“Your wife called me last night.”
“You said that already.”
“She asked me to come here today.”
I frowned.
“What?”
“She told me exactly when she’d leave.”
I looked toward the window.
“She planned this?”
My cousin nodded.
“She wanted me to find you alone.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“No.”
She finally sat down.
“That’s why I brought the card.”
I pulled out a chair opposite her.
“Tell me everything.”
She looked at me for several seconds.
“Your wife thinks you’re cheating on her.”
I almost laughed.
“Me?”
“Yes.”
“That makes no sense.”
“She found something.”
“What?”
“She wouldn’t tell me.”
I leaned forward.
“Then why did she call you?”
“Because she wanted to know whether you were still seeing someone.”
“I haven’t been seeing anyone.”
“I know.”
“How?”
“Because I checked.”
I stared at her.
“You checked?”
She nodded.
“Your wife asked me to.”
The room suddenly felt smaller.
“What exactly did you check?”
“Your phone records. Your work schedule. Your bank transactions.”
I stood.
“You had no right.”
“I know.”
“Then why did you do it?”
“Because she was afraid.”
“Of me?”
“No.”
She paused.
“Of what you might discover.”
That sentence silenced me.
I sat down again.
My cousin pushed the memory card toward me.
“Put this in your computer.”
I hesitated.
“What is on it?”
“A video.”
“Of what?”
“Your wife.”
My stomach tightened.
I grabbed my laptop from the counter.
A few minutes later, I inserted the card.
There was one video file.
No name.
No date.
I opened it.
The screen showed a parking garage.
My wife was standing beside a dark sedan.
She wasn’t alone.
A man stood in front of her.
I didn’t recognize him.
They were talking.
I turned up the volume.
The recording was distant, but I could hear enough.
My wife said,
“He can’t know yet.”
The man replied,
“He already suspects something.”
My wife shook her head.
“Then we have to move faster.”
I paused the video.
My hands were cold.
“Who is that?”
My cousin didn’t answer.
I looked at her.
“Who is he?”
“Keep watching.”
I pressed play.
The man handed my wife an envelope.
She opened it.
Her face changed immediately.
Then she asked,
“Is this everything?”
The man nodded.
“Everything we have.”
She looked around.
“Where did you get it?”
“From your house.”
I froze.
I paused the video again.
“From our house?”
My cousin nodded.
“Keep watching.”
I continued.
The man leaned closer.
“Once he sees this, he’ll know.”
My wife whispered,
“That’s exactly what we want.”
I felt something drop inside my chest.
“What do they want?”
My cousin finally answered.
“For you to leave.”
The video continued.
My wife put the envelope into her handbag.
Then the man said something that made me stop breathing.
“Your cousin will handle the rest.”
I slowly turned toward the woman sitting across from me.
She looked at me.
“Yes.”
“You were involved.”
“I was.”
“With my wife.”
“Yes.”
“Since when?”
“Six months.”
I stood again.
“You’ve been planning this for six months?”
“No.”
She looked down.
“I’ve been trying to stop it for six months.”
I didn’t understand.
“If you were trying to stop it, why did you lock the door?”
“Because I needed to make sure you couldn’t leave before I showed you the rest.”
“The rest of what?”
She pulled out her phone.
Then showed me a photograph.
It was a picture of our house.
Taken from across the street.
The date was six months earlier.
I recognized the car parked in our driveway.
My car.
But the photograph showed something I had never noticed.
A small figure standing behind the upstairs bedroom window.
Someone was watching the person taking the photograph.
I zoomed in.
My blood went cold.
It was my wife.
She was holding a phone.
Taking a picture of the person across the street.
I looked at my cousin.
“She knew she was being watched.”
“Yes.”
“By whom?”
“That is what we’ve been trying to find out.”
“We?”
She nodded.
“Your wife and I weren’t working together.”
I stared at her.
“Then what were you doing?”
“Watching her.”
“Why?”
“Because someone hired me.”
“Who?”
She hesitated.
“Your wife.”
I rubbed my forehead.
“This makes no sense.”
“I know.”
She took a breath.
“Your wife hired me six months ago because she believed someone was following you.”
“Me?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t she tell me?”
“Because the person following you was connected to your family.”
I stared at her.
“My family?”
She nodded.
“Someone who knows you very well.”
I thought about my parents.
My siblings.
My uncle.
Everyone.
“Who?”
She reached into her handbag and removed another photograph.
This one was older.
Much older.
It showed my father standing outside a house.
Beside him was a man I didn’t recognize.
But the man was wearing the same watch my father had worn in every photograph from that period.
“Who is he?”
“My uncle.”
I looked at her.
“You mean your father?”
“No.”
She pointed at the photograph.
“My father’s brother.”
I stared at the two men.
“They look almost identical.”
“They were twins.”
I felt a strange uneasiness.
“Where is he now?”
“Dead.”
“When?”
“Three years ago.”
“How?”
“Car accident.”
I looked back at the photograph.
Then something caught my attention.
In the background, standing beside a parked car, was my wife.
She looked younger.
Much younger.
I turned toward my cousin.
“She knew him.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“That is what your wife has been hiding from you.”
My phone buzzed again.
Another message from my wife.
Please leave the house.
Then another arrived.
Don’t let her show you the second video.
I slowly raised my eyes.
My cousin saw my expression.
“She warned you about the second video?”
I nodded.
My cousin sighed.
“I was hoping she wouldn’t.”
“What is on it?”
She reached into her bag one last time.
This time, she pulled out a USB drive.
“Your wife didn’t know I had this.”
I stared at it.
“What is it?”
“Security footage from the night your father died.”
My heart stopped.
“My father died three years ago.”
“I know.”
“And my wife was there.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
My cousin looked at the locked front door.
Then back at me.
“Because your father wasn’t alone when he died.”
I felt my throat tighten.
“Who was with him?”
She didn’t answer.
Instead, she plugged the USB drive into my laptop.
A video appeared.
Black screen.
Then a timestamp.
Three years ago.
11:47 p.m.
A car stopped outside an abandoned warehouse.
My father stepped out.
Then another person exited the passenger side.
A woman.
I couldn’t see her face.
She walked toward my father.
They argued.
Then she removed something from her coat.
My cousin paused the video.
“Look at her left hand.”
I zoomed in.
She was wearing a ring.
A simple silver ring.
I had seen it before.
On my wife’s hand.
My blood ran cold.
“That can’t be…”
My cousin whispered,
“Your wife was at the warehouse that night.”
The screen suddenly went black.
Then a final frame appeared.
My father was lying on the ground.
And the woman was standing above him.
Her face was finally visible.
I stared at the screen.
It was my wife.
But there was something even more terrifying.
The timestamp showed 11:58 p.m.
And according to my wife, she had been at home with me that entire night.
I slowly turned toward my cousin.
“Why didn’t you show me this before?”
She looked at me with tears in her eyes.
“Because I needed to know whether you were ready.”
“For what?”
She looked toward the locked door.
“Because your wife didn’t leave to go shopping.”
I froze.
“What?”
“She left to meet the man from the first video.”
My phone buzzed again.
This time, there was a photograph.
My wife was standing beside the same dark sedan from the video.
And beside her was the man.
Underneath the photograph was one sentence:
If you want your wife alive, come alone.
I looked at my cousin.
She was already standing.
“Now you understand why I locked the door.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
She looked at me.
“You still don’t understand.”
She pointed at the laptop.
“The woman in that video isn’t your wife.”
My entire body went numb.
“Then who is she?”
My cousin stared at the frozen image.
“Your wife has a twin.”
And suddenly, every lie I’d believed about my marriage began to collapse at once.
