Part 2: The Secret Jane Was Hiding
Part 2: The Secret Jane Was Hiding
I stood there with the phone pressed against my ear, staring at Jane.
The woman who had been lying in my bed.
The woman who had casually told me my wife gave her permission to stay.
The woman who had just whispered, “Please don’t,” when my wife told me to lock the door.
Everything about the situation suddenly felt wrong.
Not confusing.
Not awkward.
Wrong.
“Why do you want me to lock the door?” I asked my wife.
Her breathing was uneven.
For a moment, she didn’t answer.
Then she said quietly:
“Because Jane is not there because she needs a place to stay.”
I looked at Jane.
She lowered her eyes.
That was all the confirmation I needed.
“What are you talking about?”
My wife took a breath.
“I didn’t want to tell you over the phone.”
“Tell me what?”
Another pause.
Then her voice dropped.
“She lied to you.”
Jane looked up sharply.
“No.”
It was the first word she had spoken since the call began.
My wife heard her.
“Put me on speaker.”
I hesitated.
Then I did.
“Jane,” my wife said, her voice suddenly colder, “how long were you planning to keep pretending?”
Jane crossed her arms.
“I don’t know what you think you know.”
“That’s the problem,” my wife replied. “You never thought anyone knew.”
The room became silent.
I looked between them.
Two women.
Both claiming to have the truth.
And somehow, both seemed afraid.
“Someone explain what is happening,” I said.
Neither answered immediately.
Finally, my wife spoke.
“Three weeks ago, Jane contacted me.”
Jane’s expression changed.
“I asked for help,” she said quickly.
My wife ignored her.
“She told me she was in trouble. She said someone was following her.”
I frowned.
“Following her?”
“Yes.”
My wife continued.
“At first, I believed her. I felt sorry for her. She told me she had nowhere to go and nowhere safe to stay.”
Jane looked down.
“And you invited her here?”
“I thought I was helping a friend.”
The way my wife said friend made it clear something had changed.
“What happened?”
My wife was quiet.
Then she said:
“I found out she wasn’t running away from someone.”
A chill went through me.
“She was running toward us.”
I looked at Jane.
“What does that mean?”
Jane didn’t answer.
My wife did.
“It means she didn’t choose our house randomly.”
Jane stepped forward.
“That’s not true.”
“Then tell him why you knew the security code.”
The room froze.
I turned toward Jane.
“What?”
She said nothing.
My wife continued.
“When I let her stay here, I never gave her the alarm code.”
My eyes moved to Jane.
The woman who had been sleeping in my bedroom.
The woman charging her phone beside my wife’s things.
The woman who somehow knew where everything was.
“How did you get it?”
Jane’s face tightened.
“I saw you enter it once.”
I stared at her.
“No.”
My voice became colder.
“No, you didn’t.”
Because I remembered.
I remembered every time I entered that code.
I remembered who was there.
Jane had never been close enough.
Not once.
My wife spoke again.
“She didn’t just know the code.”
A pause.
“She knew things about our house that she shouldn’t know.”
Jane shook her head.
“You’re making me sound like a criminal.”
My wife answered immediately.
“I’m making you sound like someone who lied.”
That hit harder.
Because it was true.
Jane had lied.
The question was why.
I walked downstairs and grabbed the spare key from the kitchen drawer.
Jane followed.
“Where are you going?”
“To check something.”
“What?”
I didn’t answer.
I went straight to my office.
The door was slightly open.
I knew I had closed it before leaving for work.
A small detail.
But one I never ignored.
Inside, everything looked normal.
Too normal.
I opened the desk drawer where I kept important documents.
Nothing seemed missing.
Then I noticed something.
A folder was turned upside down.
I always placed it facing forward.
Always.
I picked it up.
My wife’s voice came through the phone.
“What is it?”
“I don’t know yet.”
I opened the folder.
Inside were copies of our financial documents.
Property information.
Insurance papers.
Investment accounts.
And something else.
A printed email.
I didn’t recognize the sender.
But I recognized the subject line.
Regarding the Henderson Property.
My stomach tightened.
Because the Henderson Property wasn’t just any property.
It was the house we lived in.
The house that was supposed to be ours.
The house Jane had no reason to know anything about.
I read the first line.
And my entire body went still.
“Once the husband is removed from the situation, the transfer can proceed.”
I stopped breathing for a second.
“Removed?”
My wife heard me.
“What does it say?”
I looked back toward the doorway.
Jane was standing there.
Watching me.
Not scared.
Not surprised.
Almost like she already knew what I had found.
“Jane,” I said slowly.
Her face changed.
“What?”
“Who are you really?”
For the first time that night, she looked afraid.
Not because I had discovered her lie.
Because I had discovered something bigger.
She took a step backward.
“I didn’t want it to happen this way.”
Those words made my blood run cold.
“What didn’t you want to happen?”
She looked at my phone.
At my wife.
Then back at me.
And whispered:
“You were never supposed to be home tonight.”
The silence afterward was unbearable.
My wife immediately said:
“Call the police.”
Jane shook her head.
“No.”
I looked at her.
“Why?”
Her eyes filled with tears.
And what she said next changed everything.
“Because the person who sent me here…”
She swallowed.
“…is someone you trust.”
My hand tightened around the folder.
“Who?”
Jane looked toward the front window.
Toward the dark street outside.
Then she said the name.
And the moment I heard it, I understood why my wife had been afraid.
Because the person behind all of this wasn’t a stranger.
It was someone who had been sitting at our dinner table.
Someone who had smiled at us.
Someone who knew exactly how to destroy our lives.
And the worst part?
They weren’t finished yet.
They were still waiting for Jane to complete the job she had come here to do.
