“I have proof,” Sophia said, holding out the tablet. “Three months of it.”
Inside the folder labeled EVIDENCE were audio files, photos, screenshots. Michael’s voice: “You’d be better off gone.” A video of Emily kneeling to apologize for a misplaced sock. Holes punched in walls. GPS tracking apps.
Emily sat on the sofa, numb. It was all real.
“He’ll be home any minute,” she whispered.
“It’s okay,” the officer said. “A warrant has been issued. He’s being apprehended at the airport.”
Just then, a key rattled in the lock. “Emily!” Michael’s voice boomed. “Why isn’t the light on?”
The officers moved. The female officer stepped in front of Emily and Sophia.
Michael stormed in, face shifting from confusion to rage. “What is this? Emily, what have you—”
“Michael Johnson,” the officer said, “you’re under arr:est.”
Michael’s charm flickered back on. “On what grounds? I’ve never touched my wife!”
The officer held up the tablet. “Three months of evidence says otherwise.”
Michael’s eyes found Sophia, fury flashing before the mask returned. “Emily,” he said smoothly, “tell them this is a misunderstanding. We’re a loving couple.”
Emily looked at the man she had feared for so long. She felt Sophia’s hand slip into hers. Strength surged.
