He Gave His Wife Seven Days to Wait, but She Needed One Morning

She restarted the router.

While she waited, she searched Darius Cole’s name on her phone.

His number remained in her contacts, though they had not spoken in twenty-two months.

Darius had been Trevor’s cofounder and chief financial officer before a board investigation ended with his resignation. Trevor called it a theft. Darius called it a setup. Naomi had believed her husband, or had chosen to behave as if she did.

The last time she saw Darius, he stood outside a restaurant on West Forty-Ninth Street with no coat in February.

“You don’t have to defend him to me,” he had said.

“He’s my husband.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It is tonight.”

Darius had looked past her toward Trevor’s waiting car. “One day he’s going to put something in your name.”

Naomi had told him to stop.

Trevor had been furious when he learned about the conversation. He said Darius was trying to poison their marriage because he could not accept losing the company.

Naomi deleted Darius’s messages that night while Trevor watched.

She had not deleted the number.

The upload resumed.

She called.

He answered after two rings.

“Naomi?”

His voice was lower than she remembered, roughened by sleep or cigarettes.

She opened her mouth, but the first words would not come.

Darius did not ask whether she was all right.

“What did Trevor do?”

Naomi looked at the forged signature.

“He used my name.”

Silence.

Not surprise. Something heavier.

“On what?”

“A company called Harrow Lane Strategies.”

Darius inhaled slowly. “Are you at home?”

“Yes.”

“Is Trevor there?”

“He left for Miami.”

“You need to leave.”

“I’m copying everything.”

“Naomi, listen to me. Don’t confront him. Don’t message anyone at ValeRow. Don’t send those files to your regular email. And don’t assume he’s actually on his way to Miami until the plane is in the air.”

The elevator chimed.

Naomi’s whole body locked.

The private elevator indicator above the doors changed from L to 43.

“Darius.”

“What?”

“Someone’s coming up.”

She closed the unlabeled folder, slid it beneath the blue one and pushed both into the bottom drawer. The iPad remained on the desk with Sienna’s messages open.

The indicator changed to 44.

Naomi ended the call, locked her phone and slipped it into the pocket of her robe. She grabbed the iPad and returned to the kitchen. The upload had completed.

The elevator doors opened.

Trevor stepped into the apartment, breathing hard and looking irritated. His driver waited inside the elevator behind him.

“My charger.”

He crossed the living room without removing his coat. He did not notice the iPad in Naomi’s hands, or he pretended not to.

“I told you it was beside the bed,” she said.

“I thought I had another.”

“You don’t.”

He disappeared down the hallway.

Naomi carried the tablet to the kitchen island and set it beside the papers exactly where she had found it. She put the bank statement on top of the forged corporate resolution and turned the stack slightly so the coffee cup covered the lower corner.

Her wedding ring felt suddenly tight.

Trevor returned with the charger wound around his hand.

“You okay?” he asked.

The question was casual, nearly bored. He was looking at his phone.

Naomi had spent years answering before he finished asking.

“I didn’t sleep well.”

“Take something.”

“I might.”

The driver shifted inside the elevator. He wore a navy cap and kept his eyes on the floor.

Trevor looked at the iPad.

Naomi waited.

“Did I leave that on?”

“It lit up.”

His gaze moved to her face. For one second, something sharpened in him.

“What lit up?”

“A calendar reminder.”

She lifted his coffee and took a sip. It was too sweet. Trevor added sugar only when he was anxious.

His eyes dropped to the cup in her hand. He disliked anyone drinking from his cups, even her. The irritation was so familiar that Naomi nearly smiled.

“What reminder?” he asked.

“Investor call at nine.”

The actual reminder had appeared earlier, beneath Sienna’s message.

Trevor checked his watch. “Right.”

He picked up the iPad and pressed the side button. The screen went dark. His thumb hovered as though he might open it again.

The elevator driver cleared his throat.

“Sir, traffic’s building.”

Trevor slid the tablet into his briefcase.

Naomi had not expected that.

All the copied files were safe, but the paper folders remained in his office. If he opened the iPad in the car, he could notice that the message thread had been viewed. There was no way to restore the device to the exact position she had found it.

Trevor looked at her again.

“You sure you’re okay?”

She wondered whether guilt made people more observant or merely more suspicious.

“You’re going to miss your flight.”

He glanced toward the city. “I’ll call tonight.”

Naomi nodded.

He stepped into the elevator.

This time, just before the doors closed, he looked back.

Not with tenderness. Not even concern.

He was checking whether the apartment still contained what he believed he owned.

Naomi stood beside the island until the indicator reached the lobby.

Then she removed her wedding ring.