Part 2: The Stranger At The Door Wasn’t One Of Her Guests
Part 2: The Stranger At The Door Wasn’t One Of Her Guests
Chapter 2: The Man Behind The Door Knew About My Plan
The doorknob stopped moving.
For two seconds, nothing happened.
Then it turned again.
Slowly.
I stepped away from the cabinet and reached for the digital recorder.
The door opened three inches.
A man looked through the gap.
He was in his late forties, wearing a dark jacket and carrying no drink.
He didn’t look drunk.
He didn’t look confused.
He looked directly at me.
Then he said my name.
“Daniel.”
I froze.
Nobody had called me Daniel inside that house.
Not tonight.
Not for months.
“Who are you?”
He opened the door farther.
“My name is Victor.”
I didn’t move.
“How do you know my name?”
“Because I’ve been looking for you.”
Behind us, the music continued pounding through the walls.
Natalie laughed again.
She had no idea someone was standing inside the hidden hallway.
Victor glanced toward the living room.
“Your wife doesn’t know I’m here.”
“Then why are you here?”
“Because she wasn’t supposed to invite those men tonight.”
I stared at him.
“She invited six men.”
“Five.”
“What?”
“One of them is working for me.”
My eyes narrowed.
“Which one?”
Victor didn’t answer.
Instead, he reached into his jacket and pulled out a photograph.
He handed it to me.
It showed Natalie standing outside a bank.
Beside her was Eric.
My stomach tightened.
“When was this taken?”
“Four months ago.”
That was the exact month I had started preparing my plan.
I looked at him.
“You’ve been watching her.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because she was watching you.”
I didn’t understand.
Victor pointed toward the photograph.
“Look at the man behind her.”
I examined it.
There was a second man standing near the bank entrance.
I recognized him.
He was one of the men currently sitting in my living room.
“How?”
“He’s not here because of Natalie.”
Victor’s voice dropped.
“He’s here because of you.”
I felt a chill.
“What does he want?”
“To see whether you’ve finished what you started.”
I stared at him.
“What do you know about my plan?”
Victor smiled slightly.
“Enough.”
My prepaid phone vibrated.
Eric.
Who is that?
I looked at Victor.
Before I could answer, another message arrived.
Don’t trust him.
I showed Victor the screen.
He didn’t react.
Instead, he said:
“Eric told you not to trust me?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
He stepped farther into the hallway.
“Because Eric is the reason your wife knows about the garage.”
My stomach dropped.
“What?”
Victor looked toward the security monitor.
“She thinks the cameras belong to the old alarm system.”
“They do.”
“No.”
He shook his head.
“They belong to Eric.”
I stared at him.
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“It will.”
A loud crash came from the living room.
Someone laughed.
Then Natalie shouted:
“What’s taking him so long?”
Victor looked at me.
“She knows you’re hiding.”
I shook my head.
“No. She thinks I’m in the garage.”
“She knows you have been using the garage.”
“How?”
Victor reached into his pocket again.
This time, he pulled out a small envelope.
Inside was a photograph.
It showed me entering the garage late at night.
Four months earlier.
Then another.
Me carrying folders.
Another.
Me speaking to Eric.
Another.
Me placing the sealed envelope inside the cabinet.
I stared at them.
My hands went cold.
“Who took these?”
Victor didn’t answer.
“Who?”
“Your wife.”
I looked toward the living room.
Natalie’s laughter suddenly sounded different.
Less careless.
More calculated.
“You’re lying.”
“Am I?”
He pointed toward the monitor.
“Look.”
I turned.
Natalie was no longer sitting between the men.
She was standing near the hallway.
One of the guests was talking to her.
She wasn’t listening.
She was staring toward the storage-room door.
Then she slowly walked toward it.
I whispered:
“She knows.”
Victor nodded.
“She always knew.”
I felt my jaw tighten.
“Then why let me prepare?”
“Because she wanted to know what you were preparing.”
I looked at him.
“And you?”
“I wanted to know what she was afraid of.”
Before I could ask anything else, the storage-room door opened again.
This time Natalie stood there.
She stared at me.
Then at Victor.
Her face changed.
Not surprise.
Recognition.
“You.”
Victor smiled.
“Hello, Natalie.”
She stepped backward.
“What are you doing here?”
“Same thing you’ve been doing.”
“Which is?”
“Waiting.”
Natalie looked at me.
Then at the cabinet.
Then at the envelope in my hand.
Her expression finally cracked.
“You found out.”
I didn’t answer.
She looked at Victor.
“You said he wouldn’t know.”
Victor shook his head.
“I never said that.”
Natalie’s eyes hardened.
“You promised.”
“I promised he wouldn’t be able to stop you.”
Victor glanced at me.
“I didn’t promise he wouldn’t understand.”
The music suddenly stopped.
Every voice in the living room disappeared.
I looked past Natalie.
The five men were standing.
The sixth man—the one Victor had identified as his associate—was gone.
Natalie noticed my expression.
“Where is he?”
Victor answered.
“Outside.”
“Why?”
“Because the police are arriving.”
Natalie went pale.
“What?”
Victor looked at his watch.
“Two minutes.”
Natalie turned toward me.
“You called the police?”
“No.”
She looked confused.
Victor said:
“I did.”
Natalie stared at him.
“Why?”
“Because your husband isn’t the criminal in this house.”
Her expression changed.
“Then who is?”
Victor looked directly at her.
“You.”
Natalie laughed nervously.
“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Victor reached into his jacket and pulled out another document.
He handed it to me.
I unfolded it.
My heart stopped.
It was a property transfer.
Our house.
My name was on the original deed.
But someone had filed paperwork transferring ownership to Natalie six months earlier.
The signature looked like mine.
But I hadn’t signed it.
I looked at Natalie.
“You forged my signature.”
She didn’t answer.
“You’ve been planning this.”
Still nothing.
Then she whispered:
“You weren’t supposed to find out until after you were gone.”
My stomach tightened.
“Gone where?”
She looked at Victor.
He answered for her.
“Out of the country.”
I stared at him.
“Why?”
Victor’s expression became serious.
“Because the plan wasn’t to embarrass you.”
He pointed toward the living room.
“It was to make it look like you abandoned your marriage, your job, and your home.”
I felt the blood drain from my face.
“And then?”
Victor looked at Natalie.
“Then she would have everything.”
The front door suddenly shook.
Someone outside shouted:
“Police! Open the door!”
Natalie turned toward me.
For the first time that night, she looked genuinely frightened.
But then she smiled.
A small, cold smile.
“You still don’t understand.”
I stared at her.
“Understand what?”
She reached into her pocket.
Pulled out her phone.
And showed me a video.
It was recorded four months earlier.
I watched myself sitting across from Eric.
But the audio was edited.
It made me sound like I was planning to disappear.
I looked at Natalie.
“You edited this.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
She smiled.
“Because the police aren’t here for me.”
The pounding on the front door grew louder.
Natalie whispered:
“They’re here for you.”
Victor’s expression changed.
He looked at me.
Then at the screen.
Then toward the front door.
And for the first time since he had entered the hallway, he looked afraid.
My prepaid phone rang.
I answered.
A woman’s voice said:
“Daniel, get out of the house immediately.”
“Why?”
“Because the warrant isn’t for Natalie.”
My heart stopped.
“Then who is it for?”
There was a pause.
Then she whispered:
“It’s for you.”
I looked at Natalie.
She was smiling.
And suddenly I understood why she had invited six strangers into our house.
They weren’t there to party.
They were witnesses.
Witnesses who had been carefully placed inside my home before the police arrived.
Witnesses who were about to tell a story that made me look like the criminal.
And somewhere outside that house, someone had already prepared the next step.
My four-month plan had just become a trap.
