LA: Man K!lled Wife After Learning She Was Escort & Infected Him With Syphilis

…

The operation was planned for the afternoon.

They needed to get a warrant and coordinate the details with the support team.

Wallace had been working with Nicholas for 6 years.

They weren’t just partners, they were friends.

Wallace was 2 years older, a tall, broad-shouldered man with a deep voice and a calm disposition.

He was married with two children and often joked that it was time for Nicholas to start a family of his own.

Closer to 3:00 in the afternoon, a team of six officers moved to the location.

The apartment was on the third floor of an old pre-fabricated building.

The windows were covered with thick curtains and the door was reinforced with a metal grill.

a classic drug dealer’s den.

Nicholas and Wallace went up the stairs first.

The other four officers followed them.

The landing smelled of urine and mold.

Nicholas knocked on the door with the handle of his service weapon.

Police, open up.

There was silence in response.

Then there was a crash.

The sound of furniture falling and screams.

Someone inside tried to escape.

Wallace nodded to the technician with the battering ram.

The door burst open on the third blow.

Everything happened quickly and chaotically after that.

There were four men in the apartment.

One of them fired a gun, the bullet hitting the ceiling.

Nicholas instinctively ducked, shouted a warning, and aimed his weapon at the shooter.

Wallace moved to the right, covering the flank.

Two more shots rang out.

One of the suspects tried to jump out the window, but was caught on the window sill.

2 minutes later, it was all over.

The four suspects lay face down on the dirty floor, their hands cuffed behind their backs.

On the table were scales, bags of white powder, and several thousand in cash.

Nicholas was breathing heavily, adrenaline still rushing through his veins.

Wallace checked the premises to make sure no one else was there.

The other officers began processing the arrest and called in a team to seize the evidence.

All clear, Wallace said as he returned to the main room.

Nice hall.

They returned to the station in the evening, filled out their reports, and turned in the evidence.

Wallace suggested they go to a nearby cafe for coffee to calm their nerves.

After the operation, they sat by the window and ordered large cups of strong coffee.

“That was close today,” Wallace said, rubbing his face with his hands.

“That jerk could have hit someone.

We were lucky.

Nicholas nodded.

They were silent for a moment.

Twilight was falling outside the window.

The streets were filling with cars, people rushing home after work.

It was ordinary life in a big city where few people thought about the efforts that kept order.

“Are you okay?” Wallace asked, looking closely at his friend.

“You seem out of sorts today.

” Nicholas wrapped his hands around the cup, feeling the warmth of the ceramic.

I don’t know.

He shook his head.

Problems at home with Becca? Yes.

She has changed.

She’s become a stranger.

She doesn’t talk to me.

She’s always on her phone.

She avoids intimacy.

I don’t understand what’s going on.

Wallace frowned.

Have you asked her? I have.

She says everything is fine, but I can feel that it’s not.

Something is wrong.

What do you think it is? Wallace spoke cautiously, as if afraid to say the words out loud.

Nicholas was silent, staring into his cup.

Then he said quietly, “I think she has someone else, another man.

” Wallace leaned back in his chair, “That’s a serious accusation, Nick.

Are you sure? Maybe you’re just getting yourself worked up.

” “I don’t know.

” Nicholas ran his hand over his face.

Maybe, but all the signs are there.

She’s distant.

She’s secretive.

She hides her phone.

She’s spending more money.

I don’t know what to think.

Listen.

Wallace leaned forward.

Don’t jump to conclusions.

There could be a thousand reasons why someone is acting strangely.

Stress, depression, health problems.

Don’t immediately assume she’s cheating on you.

I want to believe you’re right.

Nicholas smiled bitterly.

But I have a bad feeling about this.

Give it time, Wallace advised.

Try talking to her again calmly without accusations.

Maybe she’ll open up on her own.

They finished their coffee and went their separate ways.

Nicholas drove through the night city, thinking about his friend’s words.

Maybe he was really getting himself worked up.

Maybe things weren’t as bad as they seemed.

When he opened the door to his house, the living room light was on.

Rebecca was sitting on the sofa with her phone in her hands.

The screen illuminated her face with a cold blue light.

She was typing something quickly, intently.

Her fingers flew across the screen.

Nicholas closed the door.

Rebecca flinched quickly, hid her phone under the pillow, and turned to him.

“You scared me,” she said.

“I didn’t hear you come in.

” “Sorry.

” Nicholas took off his jacket.

I got back late.

I had surgery.

Yes, I know.

Rebecca got up from the sofa.

Are you having dinner? I left it for you in the fridge.

Thanks.

I’m not hungry.

She walked past him into the kitchen.

Nicholas watched her go.

The pillow on the sofa was lying unnaturally, clearly hiding the phone underneath it.

He imagined how she quickly hid it as soon as she heard the door.

Who was she texting? What about why was it so important to hide it from him? Questions swirled in his head, but there were no answers.

Nicholas went up to the bedroom, undressed, and laid down in bed.

Rebecca came in later, lay down on her side, and turned away toward the wall.

There was a space between them, cold and empty, like an abyss.

The next few days passed in tense silence.

Nicholas and Rebecca existed in the same house, but it was as if they were in parallel worlds.

He left for work early in the morning and returned late in the evening.

She did housework, cooked meals, and watched television.

They exchanged short phrases about everyday things, but there was no real conversation between them anymore.

Nicholas tried to convince himself that paranoia had taken over his mind, that he was imagining problems where there were none, that Wallace was right, and he just needed to give his wife time.

But every time he saw her hide her phone, avoid his gaze, tense up at his touch, a heavy certainty grew inside him.

Something was wrong.

On Tuesday, February 18th, Nicholas and Wallace were patrolling the central areas of the city.

It was a sunny day, warm for February.

The streets were filled with people, cars, and street vendors.

They were driving down Wilshire Boulevard when Nicholas saw her.

The woman was standing at the corner of an intersection at the entrance to a small shopping center.

She was wearing a light colored coat and dark jeans, her hair pulled back in a ponytail.

Nicholas recognized the coat.

He had given it to Rebecca last Christmas.

The woman looked around as if she were waiting for someone, then took out her phone.

A black sedan pulled up to the curb, an expensive model, judging by the shine of the chrome and the smoothness of its movement.

The woman quickly glanced around and slid into the back seat.

The car started moving and merged into traffic.

It all happened in a matter of seconds.

Nicholas didn’t have time to get a good look at the woman’s face or the car’s license plate.

But the silhouette, the gate, that coat, everything screamed that it was Rebecca.

What is it? Wallace noticed his partner tense up.

Nothing.

Nicholas shook his head.

Just my imagination.

But for the rest of the day, he couldn’t get the image out of his head.

The woman at the mall, the black sedan, the quick get in, as if she didn’t want to be seen.

Maybe it wasn’t Rebecca.

Maybe it was just a woman who looked like her in a similar coat.

Los Angeles was a huge city.

Coincidences happened all the time, but his heart told him otherwise.

That evening, Nicholas came home earlier than usual.

Rebecca was in the kitchen cutting vegetables for a salad.

The radio was quietly playing jazz.

She turned around when he entered and a look of surprise flashed across her face.

You’re early today.

Yes, my shift ended early.

Nicholas walked over to the refrigerator and took out a bottle of water.

How was your day? Normal.

Rebecca returned to cutting.

Nothing special.

Did you go out anywhere? He tried to sound as casual as possible, but he could feel his wife’s shoulders tense up.

No, I was home cleaning.

Why do you ask? Just curious.

Rebecca put down the knife and turned to face him.

Her eyes were wary.

“What’s going on, Nick? Why are you asking strange questions?” “I saw you today,” he decided to be direct.

In the afternoon on Wilshire Boulevard, you were getting into a black sedan.

Her face froze for a moment, then she frowned.

“That wasn’t me.

I was home all day.

I told you, Becca, I definitely saw you.

You were wearing that light colored coat I gave you.

Your hair was pulled back.

It was you.

No.

She shook her head with desperate conviction.

That wasn’t me.

I swear.

I haven’t left the house all day.

Maybe someone who looks like me, but it wasn’t me.

Nicholas looked at her, trying to figure out if she was lying.

Rebecca held his gaze, not looking away, but he could see her hands shaking.

I went to my mother’s in the afternoon, she added.

Around 4:00, I took her some groceries, but I was at home in the morning.

And before that, if you want, you can call my mom and ask her.

It sounded reasonable.

Maybe he really was mistaken.

Maybe it was another woman.

Nicholas wanted to believe it, wanted to let go of his suspicions, but they clung to him, giving him no peace.

“All right,” he said finally.

“I guess I was wrong.

” Rebecca breathed a sigh of relief and went back to cooking, but the atmosphere in the house became even more tense.

They ate dinner in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.

Around 8:00 in the evening, the doorbell rang.

Rebecca flinched quickly, got up from the sofa, and went to answer it.

Nicholas heard women’s voices.

Then Hannah Wells, Rebecca’s younger sister, entered the living room.

Hannah resembled her sister, but was more vibrant and outgoing.

She worked as a sales manager for a small company that supplied office equipment.

She was unmarried, rented an apartment in Englewood, and often visited her sister and mother.

Hi, Nick.

She waved at him.

How are things on the crime front? Same as usual.

Nicholas tried to smile.

Are you staying long? No, just popped in to chat with my sister.

We’ll sit in the kitchen.

We won’t bother you.

The sisters went into the kitchen and closed the door.

Nicholas remained in the living room in front of the TV, but the sound was turned down to a minimum, and he couldn’t help listening to the conversation behind the door.

They spoke in low voices, almost in whispers.

He couldn’t make out the words, only the intonations, anxious, nervous.

Sometimes Hannah’s voice rose, and Rebecca immediately shushed her.

Nicholas got up and went to the bathroom, which was next to the kitchen.

As he passed by, he slowed his pace.

The sisters fell silent as soon as they heard his footsteps.

Complete tense silence.

He went into the bathroom, turned on the water, waited a minute, and left.

When he passed the kitchen again, they were still silent.

Only when he returned to the living room, and sat down on the sofa did the conversation resume.

quiet, cautious whispers.

What were they discussing? Why did they fall silent when he approached? Nicholas felt a sense of unease growing inside him, turning into certainty.

Rebecca was hiding something, and Hannah knew about it.

Perhaps she was even helping her.

Hannah left an hour later.

Rebecca walked her to the door.

They hugged, whispered something to each other in farewell.

When Rebecca returned to the living room, her face was pensive and tired.

“What did you talk about?” Nicholas asked.

“Just this and that.

She had a fight with her boyfriend and was sharing her feelings.

” “I didn’t know Hannah had a boyfriend.

” “Well, it’s not serious.

She’s just seeing someone.

” Rebecca shrugged and went to the bedroom.

Nicholas remained sitting in the dark living room.

The TV flickered with meaningless images.

He thought about the black sedan, the whispering in the kitchen, his wife hiding her phone, pieces of a puzzle that did not yet fit together.

The next morning, Nicholas arrived at the station early.

He had access to the city’s video surveillance system, a standard tool for police officers investigating crimes.

Technically, using the cameras for personal purposes was a violation.

But Nicholas didn’t care.

He needed the truth.

He found a camera that covered the intersection on Wilshire Boulevard where he had seen the woman yesterday.

He fast forwarded the recording to the right time.

February 18th, 1:40 pm The camera was mounted high up.

The angle of view was not ideal, and the image quality left much to be desired.

But he saw what he needed to see, a woman in a light colored coat.

She is standing at the entrance to a shopping center looking at her phone.

A black sedan pulls up to the curb.

Nicholas tried to make out the license plate number, but the resolution was too low and the numbers were blurry.

The woman looks back and quickly gets into the back seat.

The car drives away.

Nicholas rewound the recording and watched it again, then again.

The woman’s face was not clearly visible, but her silhouette, her gate, her gestures, all of it screamed that it was Rebecca.

He recognized her by her movements, by the way she held her phone, by the way she fixed her hair before getting into the car.

But it wasn’t 100% proof.

Too blurry, too far away.

But for Nicholas, it was enough.

He knew it was his wife.

What are you looking at? Wallace’s voice made him jump.

Nicholas turned around.

His partner was standing in the doorway with a cup of coffee in his hand, looking at the computer screen.

It’s personal.

Nicholas wanted to close the window, but Wallace had already come closer.

Is that the woman you saw yesterday? Nicholas nodded.

Wallace put the cup on the table, leaned toward the screen, and stared at the blurry image.

The quality is terrible, he remarked.

Are you sure it’s Becca? Yes.

Look at her gate.

The way she holds herself.

It’s her.

Maybe.

Wallace straightened up.

Or maybe not.

Nick, do you realize what you’re doing? You’re using police resources to spy on your own wife.

This could end badly.

I need to know the truth,” Nicholas said, staring at the frozen image on the screen.

“She’s lying to me.

I can feel it.

” Wallace was silent for a few seconds, then sighed heavily.

“Listen, if you really want to know what’s going on, there’s a right way to do it.

Hire a private investigator.

It’s legal.

It’s their job.

They’ll follow her.

Take pictures.

Document everything.

And you’ll have real evidence, not some blurry surveillance camera footage.

Nicholas shook his head.

No, it’s humiliating.

Hire someone to follow my own wife.

I can’t do that.

What can you do? Wallace spoke harshly but sympathetically.

Use your position.

Dig through the cameras.

Follow her yourself.

That’s a dead end, Nick.

If she’s really cheating on you, you’ll find out sooner or later.

But don’t ruin your career and reputation over it.

I just want to understand what’s going on.

Nicholas rubbed his face with his hands.

Maybe I’m going crazy.

Maybe I’m imagining all this, but I can’t stop thinking about it.

Then talk to her, Wallace insisted.

Have a serious conversation.

No accusations, no suspicions.

Just tell her how you feel, that it’s hard for you, that you’re confused, that you need honesty.

Give her a chance to explain herself.

I tried.

Nicholas closed the window with the recording.

She says everything is fine.

She denies everything.

So, either everything really is fine and you’re being paranoid or she’s not ready to admit it.

Either way, you won’t get anywhere by forcing the issue.

Wallace put his hand on his shoulder.

Give her time and give yourself time.

Don’t make any rash decisions.

Nicholas wanted to argue, but he knew his friend was right.

>> >> He really was acting paranoid.

He was using company resources for personal purposes.

He was suspecting his wife without any real evidence.

None of it was right.

But deep down, he already knew the truth.

Rebecca was hiding something serious and that something was slowly but surely destroying their marriage from within.

The rest of the day was spent doing routine work.

Nicholas tried to focus on his tasks, reports, and new assignments, but his thoughts kept returning to his wife, the black sedan, and the whispering in the kitchen.

In the evening, he came home and saw that Rebecca had set the table for two candles, good wine, her best dress.

She greeted him with a forced smile.

“I thought we should spend the evening together,” she said, “Like before, just you and me without any problems.

Nicholas sat down at the table.

Dinner was delicious.

Rebecca tried to keep the conversation going, talking about trivial things, asking about his work.

But there was a void between her words.

It was a game, an attempt to pretend that everything was fine.

Nicholas played along with her.

He nodded, smiled, and answered.

But inside, he felt a tightening in his chest.

He looked at his wife and thought, “Who are you? What have you become? And how could I not have noticed when it all started to fall apart?” After dinner, they sat on the couch and watched a movie.

Rebecca snuggled up to him and rested her head on his shoulder.

Nicholas hugged her, feeling the warmth of her body, but that warmth was deceptive.

Between them remained a wall of lies, invisible but impenetrable.

When they went to bed, Rebecca turned away from him again.

Nicholas lay in the dark, staring at the ceiling.

Outside the window, the city bustled at night.

Cars drove by.

A dog barked somewhere.

He thought about the black sedan, about the man behind the wheel, about where they had gone, about what his wife was doing in that car.

And with each thought, his confidence grew.

Soon everything would be revealed.

The truth cannot hide forever.

Sooner or later, it will come to light and then their lives will change forever.

On February 22nd, Rebecca announced that she was going shopping.

She needed to buy groceries and a few things for the house.

Nicholas was at home.

It was his day off.

He was sitting in the living room with a mug of coffee when his wife came down the stairs, dressed in jeans and a sweater, a bag slung over her shoulder.

I’ll be back in a couple of hours, she said without looking at him.

Do you need anything? No, thank you.

She left.

Nicholas heard the sound of the engine starting, then silence.

He sat looking out the window, watching the raindrops from the recent rain run down the glass.

The house around him was empty and quiet.

The thought came to him suddenly, unexpectedly, and insistently.

Rebecca was gone.

He was home alone.

This was his chance to find out the truth.

His chance to find what she was hiding.

Nicholas struggled with himself for a long time.

Searching his wife’s belongings was crossing a line.

It was a breach of trust, an invasion of privacy.

But what trust could there be if she was lying to him? If she was hiding her phone, meeting someone in secret, whispering with her sister.

He went upstairs to the bedroom.

His heart was beating fast.

His hands were shaking slightly.

Guilt mingled with determination.

He needed to know.

He started with the bedside table on Rebecca’s side.

He opened the drawer.

There were books, hand cream, a notebook, and several pens.

Nothing unusual.

He leafed through the notebook.

Blank pages except for a few shopping notes and a grocery list on the first page.

Then he moved on to the dresser.

The top drawer contained underwear and socks neatly folded.

Nicholas sorted through the items carefully, trying not to disturb the order.

Nothing.

The second drawer contained t-shirts and loungewear.

Nothing there either.

The third drawer was deeper.

It contained sweaters, hoodies, things Rebecca rarely wore.

Nicholas laid them out on the bed, checking the pockets, feeling the fabric.

Nothing.

He moved on to the wardrobe.

Hangers with dresses, blouses, coats.

He checked the pockets of each item methodically, as he did during searches at work.

Nothing suspicious.

A few crumpled receipts from shops, a forgotten hair clip, an empty chewing gum packet.

At the bottom of the wardrobe were boxes of shoes.

Nicholas began checking them one by one.

Dr.ess shoes, sneakers, boots.

He was about to give up, ready to stop, when he opened a box of black ankle boots that Rebecca had bought a year ago.

There were no shoes inside.

Instead, there were two bundles of bills tied with rubber bands.

Nicholas froze.

He took out the bundles and put them on the bed.

$100 bills, new and crisp.

He quickly counted them.

Each bundle contained $25,000, a total of 50,000.

He sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the money.

Where did Rebecca get that kind of money? She hadn’t worked for 3 years.

She had no income of her own except for the money he gave her for household expenses.

Where did $50,000 in cash come from? Thoughts raced through his head fast and sharp.

Did she sell something inherited? Or was it a gift from someone from the man in the black sedan? Nicholas took a photo of the money with his phone.

Then he carefully put it back in the box and put it back in its place.

He rearranged the items in the dresser as they had been before.

He erased all traces of the search.

When Rebecca returned 2 hours later with bags of groceries, Nicholas was sitting in the living room leafing through a magazine.

He heard her bustling about in the kitchen, putting away the purchases.

Then she walked past him upstairs and returned a few minutes later in her home clothes.

Nicholas waited for the evening.

He wanted the conversation to take place calmly without haste.

After dinner, when she was relaxed, they ate in silence.

Rebecca reheated yesterday’s chicken and rice and set the table.

The food was tasteless, but Nicholas forced himself to swallow.

After dinner, Rebecca began washing the dishes.

Nicholas approached her and stood next to her.

“Becca, I need to ask you something.

” She tensed without turning around.

“What? Where did you get the money?” Her hands froze over the sink.

She stood motionless for a few seconds, then slowly turned around.

Her face was pale, her eyes wide open.

“What money?” Don’t pretend, Nicholas said quietly but firmly.

I found it in the closet.

$50,000.

Where did it come from? Rebecca closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

When she opened them again, they showed a mixture of fear and annoyance.

“You searched my things,” she said.

It wasn’t a question.

It was a statement.

“Answer the question.

Where did the money come from? She turned away and wiped her hands on a towel.

The silence dragged on.

Nicholas felt anger boiling up inside him.

“I’m waiting for an answer, Becca.

” “It’s my mom’s money,” she finally said, still not looking at him.

She asked me to hold on to it for a while.

“Why? There have been a lot of burglaries in her neighborhood.

Several neighbors have been robbed in the last month.

Mom is afraid to keep that kind of money at home.

” She asked me to hide it at our place until the situation calms down.

The explanation sounded logical.

There was indeed a crime problem in Englewood.

An elderly woman living alone might be afraid for her savings, but something in Rebecca’s voice in the way she avoided his gaze told Nicholas she was lying.

50,000.

He repeated.

That’s a lot of money for a nurse.

Where did your mother get that kind of money? She saved her whole life.

Rebecca turned to him, tears welling up in her eyes.

After my father died, she got his life insurance plus her retirement savings.

She’s very frugal.

Those are her retirement savings and she just gave it to you.

She didn’t put it in the bank.

She doesn’t trust banks.

Rebecca sniffed.

You know her.

She’s old school.

Cash is more reliable for her.

Nicholas looked at his wife for a long time.

The tears seemed real, but he had seen so many liars at work.

He knew how people could pretend.

Rebecca could cry and lie at the same time.

“Why didn’t you tell me about this before?” he asked.

“Why did you hide the money?” “Because I knew you would ask questions.

” She wiped her tears with her hand.

“Because I didn’t want you to worry.

It’s not for long.

In a month or two, my mother will take it back.

You’re lying to me.

Nicholas shook his head.

I can feel it.

I’m not lying.

Rebecca raised her voice.

Why don’t you believe me? Why are you searching my things like I’m a criminal? I’m your wife, damn it.

A wife who hides $50,000 in cash from me, Nicholas retorted.

A wife who gets into strangers cars, whispers with her sister, hides her phone, “Can you blame me for being suspicious?” Rebecca covered her face with her hands and cried real tears, sobbing.

Nicholas stood nearby, feeling both guilty and angry.

Maybe she was telling the truth.

Maybe he really had become paranoid, seeing conspiracies where there were none.

But his instinct, the same police instinct that had saved his life more than once, told him she was lying.

The money wasn’t from her mother.

It came from another source.

And that source was the key to everything.

Rebecca went into the bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

Nicholas stayed in the kitchen.

He took out his phone and looked at the photo of the money.

New bills, neat stacks.

These weren’t the savings of an elderly nurse that had been lying under a mattress for years.

This was fresh money recently acquired.

He knew what he had to do.

The next morning, February 23rd, Nicholas woke up early.

Rebecca was still asleep, turned away toward the wall.

He quietly got dressed and left the house.

In the car, he entered Ma Wells address into the navigation system.

Englewood was located in the southern part of the city, a predominantly workingclass neighborhood.

Ma lived in a three-story house built in the 1970s, shabby, with peeling paint on the walls.

The parking lot was half empty.

Nicholas parked, went up to the second floor, and found apartment number 206.

He rang the doorbell.

He waited.

He heard footsteps, then Mila’s voice through the door.

Who’s there? It’s Nicholas.

Mom, I need to talk to you.

Pause.

Then the sound of locks opening.

The door swung open.

Mila Wells stood in the doorway in her bathrobe, her gray hair pulled back in a bun.

She was 57, but she looked older.

Years of working in a hospital, night shifts, stress, it had all left its mark on her face.

Nicholas.

She looked surprised and alarmed at the same time.

Is something wrong? Is Becky okay? She’s fine.

Can I come in? Mila stepped aside to let him in.

The apartment was small but clean.

Old furniture, faded wallpaper, the smell of coffee, and something baking.

Family photos hung on the walls.

Two little girls, a man in military uniform.

Wedding pictures.

Please sit down.

Mila pointed to the sofa.

Would you like some coffee? No, thank you.

Nicholas sat down.

I won’t be long.

Mila sat down in the chair opposite him, folding her hands in her lap.

She looked at him with anxious anticipation.

Mom, I need you to tell me the truth.

Nicholas leaned forward.

Yesterday, I found a large sum of money at Becky’s, $50,000.

She said it was your savings that you gave it to her for safekeeping because of thefts in the area.

Is that true? Mila blinked.

A strange expression appeared on her face, a mixture of relief and fear.

Yes, she said after a pause.

It’s true.

I asked Becky to hold on to the money.

It’s not safe here anymore.

Where did you get that money? Nicholas kept his eyes on her.

You’re a nurse.

You can’t have saved that much.

It’s insurance after my husband’s death, Mila said quietly.

And my pension.

I’ve been saving for many years, Nicholas.

For my old age, for unexpected expenses.

It’s all I have.

She looked him in the eye as she spoke.

But Nicholas could see her hands trembling, her shoulders tense.

She was nervous.

Something was wrong.

When did you give the money to Becca? He continued.

3 weeks ago, maybe four.

I don’t remember exactly.

And you’re not afraid to trust her with that kind of money.

Aren’t you afraid she’ll lose it or that it will be stolen from her? Becca is my daughter.

Mila straightened up.

I trust her and she lives in a good neighborhood with you, a police officer.

It’s safer there than here.

The logic was ironclad.

But Nicholas wasn’t buying it.

He looked at the woman in front of him and saw fear in her eyes.

She was afraid of him.

Afraid of this conversation.

Why? Mom, he said more softly now.

I know you’re covering for Becca.

I don’t know what it is, but I know she’s hiding something from me and you’re helping her do it.

Please tell me the truth.

What’s going on? Mila was silent.

She looked away at the photos on the wall, at the wedding photo where she was young and happy standing next to her husband, then at the photo of two little girls in matching dresses.

I don’t know what you’re talking about, she finally said.

I gave the money to my daughter.

That’s all that happened.

No.

Nicholas shook his head.

That’s not true.

The money isn’t yours.

Becca asked you to tell me this story, didn’t she? She asked you to cover for her and you agreed because she’s your daughter.

Nicholas, please.

Mila’s voice was tearful.

Don’t make me say what you want to hear.

I told you the truth.

No.

He stood up.

You’re lying.

Both of you are lying to me, and I don’t understand why.

What is my wife hiding that is so terrible that even her mother can’t tell her son-in-law the truth? Mila stood up too, her face contorted.

Go away, Nicholas.

Please go away.

I’ll go.

He headed for the door.

But know this.

I will find out the truth sooner or later.

And when I do, I will remember that you lied to me, that you betrayed my trust to protect your daughter’s lie.

He stopped at the door and turned to her.

Becky has a lover, he said coldly.

A rich lover who gives her money.

Am I right? That’s why she hides her phone, gets into strangers cars, whispers with Hannah.

That’s why she has 50,000 in cash.

It’s payment for her time, for her body.

Am I right? Mila stood motionless, pale.

Her head bowed.

Tears streamed down her cheeks, but she didn’t make a sound.

Say something, Nicholas demanded.

Tell me I’m wrong.

Tell me my wife isn’t for sale.

Mila was silent.

She just stood there and cried silently.

Nicholas understood everything from her silence.

He threw open the door and stormed out, slamming it so hard that the walls shook.

He ran down the stairs, barely able to control himself.

His hands were shaking as he got behind the wheel.

His breathing was rapid and uneven.

He was right.

He had been right all along.

Rebecca was cheating on him.

She had someone who was paying her money.

a rich man who drove her around in expensive cars and gave her 50,000 in cash.

Nicholas started the engine and drove off.

He didn’t know where he was going.

He just drove through the streets of the city, past houses, shops, parks, past the lives of other people, which seemed so simple, so normal compared to the chaos his own life had become.

He thought about their seven years of marriage, about the vows they had made to each other, about the trust he had unconditionally given her, about everything that had collapsed and shattered into pieces, and about what would happen next.

Because nothing could ever be the same again.

After visiting Milo Wells, Nicholas spent the rest of the day in his car, just driving around the city.

He couldn’t go home, couldn’t look Rebecca in the eye, knowing what he knew now.

His mother-in-law’s silence spoke louder than any words.

She didn’t refute his accusations.

She didn’t say he was wrong.

She just stood there and cried.

It was an admission.

In the evening, Nicholas returned home after all.

Rebecca was gone.

There was a note on the kitchen table.

Went to my mom’s.

We’ll be back tomorrow.

He crumpled the paper and threw it in the trash can.

He went up to the bedroom, lay down on the bed without undressing.

He stared at the ceiling until it got completely dark outside.

Sleep did not come.

Thoughts spun around in his head like an endless carousel.

Rebecca with another man.

Rebecca in someone else’s arms.

Rebecca receiving money for something that should belong only to him.

These images tormented him, giving him no peace.

The next day, February 24th, Nicholas went on duty.

Work was the only thing that could distract him from thoughts of his wife.

He and Wallace patrolled the western districts, checked reports of minor offenses, and filled out reports.

The routine helped him not to think.

Around 3:00 in the afternoon, they stopped at a roadside cafe to get coffee.

Wallace noticed that his partner looked exhausted.

“Did you sleep at all?” he asked while they waited for their order.

Not really.

Problems with Becca? Nicholas nodded without looking at his friend.

It’s bad, he said simply.

Wallace took his coffee and they returned to the car.

They sat inside sipping their hot drinks.

It was sunny outside and people were rushing about their business, unaware of the dramas unfolding in the lives of those around them.

Listen, Nick.

Wallace turned to him.

I have to tell you something.

I saw Becca last night.

Nicholas felt his insides tighten.

Where? In Santa Monica near the mall on Third Street.

I was driving home after work and stopped at a traffic light and I saw her.

She was standing at the entrance to the mall.

She was wearing a red dress, an elegant evening gown.

Her hair was done.

She was wearing makeup.

She looked well, you know, like she was going on a date.

Nicholas squeezed his coffee cup so hard that the plastic cracked.

What happened next? A car pulled up to her.

A silver sedan, expensive, looked like a Mercedes or a BMW.

I couldn’t tell for sure.

She got in and they drove away.

It all happened quickly.

30 seconds, no more.

Did you see who was driving? No.

The windows were tinted.

I only saw a silhouette.

A man, definitely.

I couldn’t make out anything else.

Nicholas leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes.

There it was.

Another confirmation.

Rebecca dressed in an evening gown getting into an expensive car with a stranger.

This was no coincidence.

It was a pattern.

I’m sorry to tell you this.

Wallace put his hand on his shoulder.

But you had to know.

Thanks.

Nicholas opened his eyes.

Are you sure it was her? Absolutely.

I’ve seen her enough times to know it was Becca.

They drove the rest of the shift in silence.

Nicholas performed his duties mechanically on autopilot.

His thoughts were far away.

He imagined his wife in a red dress, smiling at someone in an expensive car.

He imagined where they were going, to a restaurant, to a hotel.

What was she doing with this man? The images in his head were unbearable.

When his shift ended, Nicholas drove home.

Rebecca’s car was in the driveway, so she had returned from her mother’s.

He entered the house.

The living room light was on, and some show was playing on the TV.

Rebecca was sitting on the sofa with a cup of tea wrapped in a blanket.

She looked up when he entered.

Her face wore a cautious expression as if she didn’t know what to expect.

Hi,” she said quietly.

Nicholas didn’t answer.

He went into the kitchen, poured himself some water from the tap, and drank it in one gulp.

His hands were shaking.

Inside, he was seething with rage, which he could barely contain.

He returned to the living room.

Rebecca looked at him anxiously.

“Nick, I want to talk.

” “Where were you last night?” he interrupted.

His voice was steady, but there was steel in it.

I wrote to you at my mom’s.

Don’t lie to me.

Nicholas took a step toward her.

You were seen in Santa Monica in a red dress.

You were getting into a car with some man.

Rebecca’s face pald.

She opened her mouth but made no sound.

Who is he? Nicholas raised his voice.

Who is this man who drives you around in expensive cars and gives you money? Nick, it’s not what you think.

Then what is it? He was almost shouting now.

Explain it to me.

Explain why my wife is secretly meeting men.

Why she has 50,000 in cash? Why she dresses up like she’s going on a date and gets into strangers cars? I can’t explain.

Rebecca stood up too, tears streaming down her cheeks.

I can’t tell you.

Why? Nicholas grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her.

Why can’t you tell your husband the truth? Because you won’t understand.

She broke free from his grip.

You think you know everything that you figured it all out, but you don’t know anything.

Then tell me.

He was shouting at the top of his lungs now.

Tell me the truth.

Damn it.

I can’t.

Rebecca sobbed.

I can’t, Nick.

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry.

Nicholas looked at her and something inside him broke completely.

All these weeks of suspicion, lies, and unspoken words, it all condensed into a moment of unbearable pain and anger.

You have a lover, he said coldly.

A rich man who pays you.

She slapped him across the face hard with all her might.

Her palm left a red mark on his cheek.

They stood there breathing heavily, staring at each other.

“I don’t have a lover.

How dare you say that?” Rebecca said through her sobs.

“I swear to you, I don’t have a lover.

” “Then where did the money come from?” “I can’t tell you.

” “Why?” “Because I can’t,” she shouted.

“Because it’s none of your business.

” “None of my business?” Nicholas laughed bitterly.

“I’m your husband.

Everything that concerns you concerns me.

We’re a family or we were until you decided to sell yourself for 50,000.

Stop it.

Rebecca covered her face with her hands.

Stop it, please.

No, it’s not enough.

Nicholas felt rage overwhelming him.

I have a right to know.

Who is he? Where do you meet him? What do you do? Stop it.

She sank down onto the sofa, curling up into a ball.

Tell me the truth.

He loomed over her.

At least now, at least once.

Be honest with me.

I can’t.

Rebecca shook her head.

I can’t.

I can’t.

I can’t.

Nicholas straightened up.

He looked down at her.

At the woman he once loved more than anything in the world.

The woman who had become a stranger, incomprehensible, deceitful.

“Then get out,” he said quietly.

She raised her head and looked at him through her tears.

What? Get out of this house, he said slowly, clearly.

If you’re not ready to be honest with me, if you’re not ready to explain what’s going on, then I don’t want to see you here.

Leave.

Go to your mother, your sister, your lover.

I don’t care.

But you don’t live here anymore.

Nick, don’t.

Rebecca stood up and reached out to him.

Please, let’s talk calmly.

We have nothing to talk about.

He turned away.

You made your choice.

You chose lies.

Live with it.

Are you kicking me out? Her voice was incredulous.

I’m giving you a choice.

Nicholas turned to her.

Either you tell me the truth right now, the whole truth, without holding anything back, or you pack your things and leave.

There is no third option.

Rebecca stood with her arms wrapped around herself.

Tears had dried on her cheeks, leaving salty trails.

She looked at him for a long time and there was so much emotion in her eyes that Nicholas couldn’t make it all out.

Pain, fear, despair, something else.

I can’t tell you, she finally said.

I’m sorry.

Then leave.

She nodded slowly as if only now realizing what was really happening.

She went up the stairs to the bedroom.

Nicholas heard her open the closet, take out a bag, and pack her things.

The sounds were ordinary, but each one cut through his heart.

20 minutes later, she came downstairs with a large bag in her hand.

She was wearing jeans and a jacket, her hair tied back casually, her eyes were red from crying.

“I’ll take some more things later,” she said.

“When you’re at work.

” “Take what you need,” Nicholas said, standing by the window with his back to her.

Leave the keys on the table, Nick.

Her voice trembled.

I love you no matter what.

I love you.

He didn’t answer.

He just stood motionless, staring into the darkness outside the window.

Rebecca put the keys on the kitchen table.

She stood there for a moment, as if waiting for him to change his mind, to say something, but Nicholas remained silent.

The door opened, then closed.

the sound of an engine starting, the light of headlights on the wall, then darkness.

Silence.

Nicholas was left alone in the empty house.

He slowly sank down onto the sofa where his wife had been sitting just a moment ago.

Her cup was on the table, the tea half drunk and cold.

The blanket she had been wrapped in lay in a heap.

He picked up the cup, carried it to the kitchen, and poured the contents into the sink.

He washed it, dried it, and put it back in its place.

He folded the blanket neatly.

He removed the pillows from the sofa that she liked to fluff up before going to sleep.

He erased all traces of her presence as if that could erase the pain.

But the pain was still there.

It sat inside him like a heavy lump, pressing on his chest, making it hard to breathe.

Nicholas went up to the bedroom.

He laid down on the bed.

Her side was empty, cold.

He thought about their seven years of marriage, about how they met at a party thrown by mutual friends, how he asked her out on a date, how nervous he was when choosing a restaurant, about her smile when he proposed to her on the beach at sunset, about the wedding, the vows, the hopes for the future.

It all seemed so distant and unreal now, as if it were someone else’s life.

Nicholas lay in the dark and realized that his marriage was over.

Maybe it had ended long ago back when Rebecca started to distance herself, hide her phone, and lie.

Maybe it had died quietly, unnoticed, and they both just didn’t want to admit it.

Or maybe it was dying right now at this very moment.

As his wife was leaving with a bag in her hands, leaving the keys on the table, Nicholas closed his eyes.

sleep would not come.

Images floated before his eyes.

Rebecca in a red dress, a black sedan, wads of cash, his mother-in-law’s silence, his wife’s tears, and questions.

Endless questions with no answers.

Who was this man? What connected him to Rebecca? Why couldn’t she tell the truth? After Rebecca left, Nicholas spent several days in a state he couldn’t define.

It wasn’t pure depression.

It was more like numbness mixed with a dull pain that never let up.

He went to work, patrolled the streets, filled out reports.

Wallace tried not to ask too many questions, realizing that his friend was going through something difficult.

On the evening of March 10th, Nicholas sat at home with a bottle of whiskey.

He rarely drank, but that evening, he wanted to drown his thoughts.

The alcohol burned his throat, but it brought no relief.

His thoughts only became darker and angrier.

Why should he suffer alone? Why did she leave and live her life, meet with her lover, spend his money while he sat in an empty house and slowly went mad? It wasn’t fair.

An idea began to form in his head, vengeful, irrational, but no less appealing for that.

If Rebecca was cheating on him, why couldn’t he do the same? Why should he remain faithful to a woman who had betrayed him? He could go to a bar and meet someone or more simply pay for company, hire a girl for the night, prove to himself that he could do it too, that he wasn’t a helpless victim.

The next day, already sober, Nicholas was still mulling over the idea.

It had lodged itself in his head and wouldn’t let go.

He tried to push it away, telling himself it was stupid, that he wasn’t that kind of person.

But the thought kept coming back.

On March 12th, after his shift, Nicholas didn’t go home, but to Compton.

He knew one person there, Tyler Griffin.

Tyler had once been an informant in a drug case, helping Nicholas track down major dealers.

After that case, they had stayed in touch.

Tyler sometimes provided useful information, and Nicholas, in return, turned a blind eye to his minor violations.

Tyler moved in the city’s underworld.

He knew people from various criminal circles, including the sex industry.

Nicholas found him in a bar on the outskirts of the district.

Tyler was sitting at a table drinking beer and watching a sports channel.

When he saw Nicholas, he raised his eyebrow in surprise.

“Officer Thornton,” he said.

“What brings you here?” “I need a favor,” Nicholas said, sitting down across from him.

I’m listening.

Nicholas paused, choosing his words carefully.

What he was about to ask crossed all boundaries, but he no longer cared about boundaries.

I need contacts, he said finally.

Escort services.

Tyler smirked.

I didn’t think cops use that kind of thing.

Can you arrange it or not? Depends on what you need.

Two girls.

The night after tomorrow, I’ll book a hotel room.

Two at once.

Tyler whistled.

That’s not going to be cheap.

How much? 5,000? 2.

5,000 each? Nicholas nodded.

He had savings.

Money he had been putting aside to renovate his house.

But what difference did that make now? It’s a deal.

March 14th, 8:00 pm Palm Gardens Hotel.

I’ll call and tell you the room number.

Okay.

Tyler took out his phone.

Give me some time to get everything sorted out.

Nicholas handed him half the amount in cash.

He would give the rest to the girls afterwards.

Tyler counted the bills and nodded with satisfaction.

They’ll be beautiful, young, you’ll like them.

When Nicholas left the bar, he felt disgusting.

But it was too late to stop.

Something inside him demanded that he finish this.

To prove to himself that he wasn’t broken, that he could live without Rebecca.

The next two days dragged on painfully.

Nicholas worked on autopilot.

Wallace tried to strike up a conversation several times, but he brushed him off.

He said everything was fine.

He was just tired.

On the evening of March 14th, Nicholas arrived at the Palm Gardens Hotel.

He booked a room for the night and paid in cash.

He went up to room 212.

It was a standard room, a bed, a TV, a bathroom, a window overlooking the parking lot.

He called Tyler and gave him the room number.

Tyler assured him that the girls would be there at 8 sharp.

Nicholas sat down in a chair and waited.

Time dragged on.

He tried not to think about what he was doing, not to analyze it.

He just waited.

At 8:00, there was a knock at the door.

Three short knocks.

Nicholas got up, walked to the door, and opened it.

Two women were standing on the threshold.

Both were dressed provocatively with bright makeup and high heels.

They looked professional.

One was wearing a short black dress, the other a silver one.

Their hair was styled, their lips painted.

Nicholas stared at them for a few seconds, not understanding.

Something about their silhouettes, their poses was familiar.

Then the one in black looked up and the world stopped.

Rebecca, his wife, was standing on the doorstep.

Next to her was Hannah, her sister.

Time stood still.

All three froze, unable to move.

Rebecca’s face reflected the horror of recognition.

She turned so pale that her makeup looked like a mask.

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