Chapter Twelve
The bar feels different tonight.
Maybe it’s the hour—close to midnight, when the last train rattles under Queens and the drunks start slurring confessions to strangers. Maybe it’s the weather, sticky and oppressive, as if the city itself is holding its breath.
Or maybe it’s Marcus, leaning in the darkest corner of the room like he’s been waiting for her longer than he should.
Catherine spots him instantly. It’s impossible not to. He’s the type of man who turns stillness into a warning.
She slides into the booth across from him. The cracked vinyl groans under her weight, or maybe that’s just her nerves.
“You came,” Marcus says, voice low and rough, as though he’s been drinking something stronger than whiskey.
“I shouldn’t have.” Her fingers twist around the cold glass the bartender just set down. “But you said it was important.”
“It is.” Marcus scans the bar—left, right, behind her—before finally leaning forward. “You’re in danger, Catherine.”
She almost laughs. Almost. “You’ll have to be more specific. My entire life has become a danger.”
“This is different.” His eyes are sharp, almost unnervingly clear. “And it has everything to do with Caleb.”
Her stomach tightens at the name.
“You sound like you know him.”
“I do.” Marcus pauses, choosing his words carefully. “I used to work with him.”
Catherine stiffens. “Work with him? At the firm?”
Marcus shakes his head. “No. Before that.”
And there it is—the first real drop, the first real hook that makes her lean in despite every instinct screaming at her to run.
“What are you talking about?” she whispers.
“Caleb isn’t who you think he is.” Marcus’s jaw flexes. “He never was.”
She swallows. “Then who is he?”
“A man who’s been lying for years,” Marcus says. “Cheating. Manipulating. Leaving destruction in every city he moves to. At first it’s small—women, debts, fake stories. Then it becomes bigger. Account fraud. Shell companies. Deals with people you don’t want to know exist.”
Her heart cracks against her ribs.
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because you’re the only one who hasn’t figured it out yet.” He lifts his drink but doesn’t sip. “And because you deserve to survive him.”
She bristles. “Survive? He’s not—”
“Catherine.” Marcus’s voice cuts clean through her denial. “I’ve seen the aftermath. Women who lost everything. People who trusted him financially and paid for it with their futures. And a few who paid… in worse ways.”
A cold wave rolls down her spine.
“He’s dangerous,” Marcus continues. “Not just careless. Not just cruel. Dangerous.”
Her breath trembles out of her. “Why didn’t you warn me sooner?”
“I tried.” He gives a humorless smile. “But you weren’t ready to hear it. And men like Caleb—they’re good at building illusions. Better at making their partners feel crazy.”
For a moment, neither of them speaks.
The bar hums with low music, clinking glasses, and a tension that seems to grow thicker every second.
Finally, Marcus pushes a small folded paper across the table.
“What’s this?”
“A name,” he says. “Someone Caleb met with last week. Someone he shouldn’t be meeting unless he’s in deep.”
“In deep with what?”
Marcus’s expression darkens. “Things that destroy people.”
Her fingers tremble as she reaches for the paper. “Why help me?”
His eyes soften just slightly. “Because once, a long time ago, I didn’t help someone else. And I’ve regretted it ever since.”
Catherine presses the paper into her palm, feeling its weight despite how small it is.
Marcus lowers his voice even further. “Be careful. If Caleb suspects you’re looking into him…” His gaze shifts toward the door as though expecting Caleb to materialize. “He won’t just get angry. He’ll get ahead of you.”
A chill sweeps through her.
“Go home through crowded streets,” Marcus adds. “Don’t walk alone. And whatever you do—don’t confront him yet.”
Catherine nods, though fear curls tight in her chest.
She stands to leave, but Marcus catches her wrist gently—not possessive, just desperate.
“Catherine,” he says, eyes steady. “Whatever you think Caleb is… lower it.”
She pulls her hand back, throat tight.
Outside, the night air hits her like a slap. The sidewalk glistens with spilled beer and neon reflections, and her pulse is a frantic, uneven rhythm.
She thought she was prepared for the worst.
She was wrong.
Because now she understands:
The real story isn’t that Caleb betrayed her.
It’s that she never truly knew what he was capable of.