Chapter 6 - THE SIGNATURE THAT CONDEMNED ME“YOU DIDN'T JUST BREAK MY HEART, NICK. YOU GAVE THE MAN WHO WANTED ME DEAD EVERYTHING HE NEEDED TO DESTROY US.”
Emily spoke slowly.
Every word seemed to cost her strength.
But there was no mistaking the pain in her eyes.
I sat beside her hospital bed, holding the hand she'd once placed in mine on our wedding day.
“Emily, I didn't know what those documents were being used for.”
She looked away.
“That's what you always say.”
The words cut deeply because they were true.
How many times had she questioned my business?
How many times had I told her not to worry?
How many dinners had ended with me promising that everything was under control?
I'd spent our marriage asking her to trust me while refusing to become someone worthy of that trust.
“Listen to me,” I said. “I know Sebastian's involved.”
Emily closed her eyes.
“You knew he was dangerous.”
“I knew he could be ruthless.”
“And you kept him close.”
“He was my brother.”
Her eyes opened.
“No, Nick. He was your business partner. You just gave him the privileges of a brother.”
I had no answer.
She took a shallow breath.
“Is my baby okay?”
“Dr. Whitmore says the heartbeat is stable.”
Emily's eyes filled with tears.
“Did you hear it?”
I shook my head.
“Not yet.”
She looked down at the blanket covering her stomach.
“I heard it at my first ultrasound.”
Her voice softened.
“It was so fast. Like a tiny horse running.”
I smiled despite the pain.
“That sounds like a Mitchell.”
She didn't smile back.
“Don't do that.”
I froze.
“Do what?”
“Act like we're suddenly a family again because you found out I'm pregnant.”
I lowered my eyes.
She was right.
I wanted to hold her.
To promise we'd bring our baby home together.
To pretend the divorce had never happened.
But Emily had spent three months learning to live without me.
I couldn't erase that simply because I wanted her back.
“You're right,” I said.
She looked surprised.
“I have no right to ask you for anything.”
Her expression softened slightly.
“Nick...”
“But I'm going to help protect you and the baby. If you want me to leave afterward, I will.”
A tear slid down her cheek.
“That's the first thing you've said to me in months that sounds honest.”
I swallowed.
“I should have told you why I divorced you.”
She stared at me.
“Why?”
“Someone threatened your life. They sent photographs. They knew your routines.”
“I know.”
I blinked.
“What?”
“Sebastian told me.”
My blood ran cold.
“When?”
“Two weeks before the divorce.”
I stared at her.
“He told you?”
“He came to the house while you were away. He showed me photographs of someone following me.”
I felt sick.
“What did he say?”
“That enemies were closing in. That you were becoming dangerous. That people around you could get hurt.”
She looked at me.
“He said you were making arrangements to leave me.”
My breathing stopped.
“He told you that?”
Emily nodded.
“And when I confronted you, you said our marriage was a lie.”
I remembered that conversation.
The way she'd looked at me.
The strange resignation in her voice.
I'd believed she was simply heartbroken.
Now I realized Sebastian had been preparing both of us for the divorce.
He'd manipulated our fears.
Turned our love into a weakness.
And convinced us that separation was inevitable.
“Emily,” I whispered, “I never stopped loving you.”
She looked at me for a long moment.
Then she answered.
“That doesn't erase what you did.”
“I know.”
“And it doesn't change the years I spent wondering whether your enemies would come through our front door.”
“I know.”
She squeezed her eyes shut.
“Love wasn't supposed to feel like being held hostage by someone else's choices.”
I felt something inside me break.
For six years, I'd believed my greatest sacrifice was letting her go.
But perhaps the real sacrifice would be accepting that she might never return.
A quiet knock interrupted us.
Detective Ortiz entered.
“Emily, I'm sorry. We need to speak with you about the attack. Only if you're medically cleared and feel able.”
Dr. Whitmore stood behind her.
Emily looked at the doctor.
“Can I talk?”
“For a few minutes,” Dr. Whitmore said. “Then you need rest.”
Emily nodded.
Ortiz approached the bed.
“Do you remember what happened in the garage?”
Emily's hand tightened around the blanket.
“I remember someone waiting near my car.”
“A man?”
“Yes.”
“Did you recognize him?”
She hesitated.
“He wore a hood. I couldn't see his whole face.”
“What happened?”
“He said he wanted the records.”
“What records?”
“The Blue Lantern transfers. The names of the women who disappeared.”
Emily's voice trembled.
“I told him I didn't have them.”
“And then?”
“He grabbed me.”
Her breathing quickened.
Dr. Whitmore stepped closer.
“We can stop.”
Emily shook her head.
“No. I need to tell you.”
She swallowed.
“I tried to get away. He pushed me against the car, and I hit my head.”
My fists tightened beneath the blanket.
Ortiz noticed.
“Mr. Mitchell, I need you to remain calm.”
I nodded.
Emily looked at me.
“He knew about the baby, Nick.”
“I know.”
“He said if I didn't tell him where the documents were, I'd never get to meet my child.”
For several seconds, I couldn't breathe.
I wanted to find whoever had said those words.
I wanted to make him understand what fear felt like.
But Emily was watching me.
And I knew exactly what she needed.
Not another violent promise.
Not another decision made on her behalf.
She needed someone who could listen.
“I'm sorry he frightened you,” I said.
She held my gaze.
Something changed between us.
Not forgiveness.
Not yet.
But recognition.
Ortiz continued gently.
“Did he say who sent him?”
Emily nodded.
“He told me my husband should have known better than to sign documents he didn't understand.”
The detective looked at me.
I felt the weight of my signature all over again.
After Emily was allowed to rest, Ortiz asked me to follow her into the corridor.
“I need copies of every agreement you signed involving the foundation.”
“You'll have them.”
“And access to the people responsible for the financial approvals.”
“Anything I can lawfully provide.”
She studied me.
“That's a significant change from your usual attitude toward law enforcement.”
“People change.”
“Sometimes.”
Before I could answer, her phone vibrated.
She read the message.
Her expression became serious.
“Mr. Mitchell, we have a problem.”
“What kind?”
“A recording has been delivered to investigators.”
“Of what?”
She hesitated.
“Your voice.”
I frowned.
“What am I supposed to have said?”
Ortiz looked directly at me.
“Someone appears to be giving instructions to eliminate Emily before she can talk to authorities.”
My stomach dropped.
“That wasn't me.”
“We haven't authenticated it.”
“I never ordered anyone to hurt my wife.”
“I understand that's your position.”
“Detective—”
She raised a hand.
“There's more.”
Two uniformed officers approached from the elevator.
One carried a pair of handcuffs.
I looked from them to Ortiz.
And suddenly I understood.
The recording.
The financial documents.
My signature.
Someone had assembled a story designed to make me look responsible for Emily's attempted murder.
Ortiz's voice remained steady.
“Nicholas Mitchell, we have a warrant for your arrest.”
I stared at her.
“You've got to be kidding.”
“I wish I were.”
Behind me, a hospital room door opened.
Emily stood just inside, leaning against the frame with a nurse supporting her.
Her face was pale.
Her eyes filled with confusion as she saw the officers approaching me.
“Nick?”
I looked at her.
Before I could explain, the officers secured my hands behind my back.
May you like
And then Detective Ortiz spoke the words that turned my entire world upside down.
“You're under arrest on suspicion of conspiring to murder Emily Brooks and her unborn child.”
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