FALLEN FOR THE MAN I WAS MEANT TO DESTROY

Chapter 2: The Doubt

Xavier's pov

Marcus stands by my office window, arms crossed, shoulders tight. I've known him for twelve years, long enough to read the tension in his jaw, the way his weight shifts forward, like he's preparing for a fight.

Whatever he's about to show me, I won't like it.

"She left twenty minutes ago." His voice is flat, controlled. "Took her car instead of calling the driver."

I pour whiskey into a glass, watch the amber liquid catch light. My hands are steady even though my mind is already racing through possibilities. "Where did she go?"

"Don't know yet. She was gone before I could get someone on her." He pulls out his phone, swipes through something. "But that's not why I'm here."

I set the glass down untouched.

Marcus crosses to my desk, drops a folder in front of me. The paper hits wood with a soft thud that sounds too loud in the quiet room.

I open it.

Financial records stare back at me. Transaction logs with dates and amounts that don't match anything in my memory. The numbers aren't huge, nothing that would trigger immediate alerts, but they're consistent. Methodical. Someone moves money through my accounts like they own them.

"How long?" My voice comes out quieter than I intended.

"About three years." Marcus leans his hip against the desk edge. "Started around the time you—" He stops.

"Around the time I got married."

"Yes."

I flip through the pages, study each entry. March 2022. June 2022. October 2022. Whoever did this knew exactly what they were doing, had access to move freely through my systems without triggering security protocols.

"Rafael thinks it might be someone inside the organization," Marcus says. "Someone who knows the accounts well enough to hide their tracks."

"What do you think?"

He's quiet for a moment. His jaw works like he's chewing on words he doesn't want to say. "I think the timing is suspicious."

I close the folder, look up. "Say what you mean, Marcus."

"Your wife has access to everything. She's been in this house for three years, she knows your schedule, she knows your associates, she knows how money moves through your operations." He pauses. "And she's been acting strange for months."

"Strange how?"

"Distracted. Secretive. Takes calls she won't explain, disappears for hours, always has excuses that sound right but feel off." Marcus straightens. "This morning she lied to you about meeting Claire. I checked, Claire's been in Paris all week for a fashion show."

The information settles in my chest like a stone. I already knew she lied, caught her in it this morning, but hearing Marcus confirm it makes it solid.

"People lie," I say. "Doesn't mean she's stealing from me."

"No, it doesn't." Marcus picks up the folder. "But it means something's going on that she doesn't want you to know about. And in our business, secrets get people killed."

I stand, walk to the window. Munich spreads out below in shades of gray. Somewhere in this city, Natasha is doing something she thinks I won't discover.

"What do you want me to do?" Marcus asks.

"Nothing yet." I turned to face him. "Keep this between us. Don't let Rafael discuss it with anyone else. I want to know more before we make accusations."

"Xavier, if she's—"

"I said not yet." The words came out harder than I intended to. "She's my wife, Marcus. I'm not going to destroy her based on timing and suspicion."

He studies my face for a long moment, his expression unreadable. "You still trust her."

"I trust evidence. Right now all we have are questions." I move back to the desk. "Run those transactions again, see if you can trace where the money actually went. And Marcus? Keep this quiet. If someone is using my accounts, I want to know who and why before they realize we're looking."

He nods once, leaves with the folder tucked under his arm.

The door closes. I stand there alone, staring at the empty space where he was standing.

My phone buzzes. Text from Natasha.

***Lunch ran long, sorry. Be home soon. Love you.***

I read it three times. Love you. Three years of hearing those words, believing them. Three years of trusting that what we have is real.

But trust is expensive when you're in my position.

The whiskey sits on my desk, amber and untouched. I pick up the glass and drain it in one swallow, let it burn down my throat. The taste is bitter, matches the thoughts running through my head.

Three years ago, Natasha walked into my life at exactly the right time. Beautiful, charming, connected to all the right people. She made it easy to fall for her, easy to believe she wanted this life with me.

Maybe too easy.

---

Natasha comes home an hour later.

I'm in my office when I hear the front door open, hear her voice calling out to Marcus. Bright, casual, like nothing happened. Like she didn't just lie to me and disappear to somewhere she wouldn't explain.

I waited five minutes before I went downstairs.

She's in the kitchen, standing by the counter with her phone in her hand. The screen faces down against the marble. She looks up when I walk in, her mouth curves into a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes.

"Hey." She sets the phone down, the movement just slightly too deliberate. "How was your morning?"

"Quiet." I leaned against the door-frame, watching her. "How was lunch with Diana?"

"Good. She was thinking about getting engaged, wanted advice on rings." The words come out smooth, rehearsed. "I told her to wait, make sure he's serious first."

"Smart advice."

She opens the refrigerator, pulls out a bottle of water. Her fingers tighten around the plastic, her knuckles going white before she forces them to relax. "Are you hungry? I can make something."

"I'm fine." I cross the kitchen, stop on the other side of the counter. Close enough to see the tension in her shoulders, the way her breathing is just slightly too fast. "You seem tense."

"Do I?" A laugh that sounds hollow. "Just tired, I guess. Diana talks a lot when she's excited."

Silence stretches between us. She shifts her weight, fingers still gripping the water bottle too tight.

"Moya." I wait until she meets my eyes. "If something's wrong, you can tell me. Whatever it is, we can handle it."

For just a second something flickers across her face. Her pupils dilate, her breath catches. Fear, maybe. Or guilt. Then it's gone, replaced by that perfect smile again.

"Nothing's wrong." She comes around the counter, wraps her arms around my waist, presses her face against my chest. Her heart beats too fast against my ribs. "I'm just tired. That's all."

I hold her but don't pull her closer. She's scared of something, hiding something, trying desperately to pretend she's not.

"Okay," I say quietly. "If you say so."

She pulls back, looks up at me. "I love you, you know that right?"

"I know."

She rises on her toes, her lips meet mine. The kiss tastes like desperation, like she's trying to memorize me. When she pulls away her eyes are too bright.

"I need to change," she says. "I'll be upstairs if you need me."

She leaves before I can respond.

I stand there in the empty kitchen, staring at the phone she left on the counter. Face-down. Hidden. Like she doesn't want me to see if a message comes through.

Marcus appears in the doorway, his expression grim.

"Everything okay?"

"No." I look at him. "Something's very wrong — and she's lying about it."

"What do you want to do?"

I think about the financial records, about her disappearing this morning, about the way she just kissed me like goodbye.

"I want to know where she goes," I say. "When she leaves the house, when she takes calls in private, when she disappears for hours with excuses that don't add up. I want eyes on her every move."

"You want me to follow her."

"I want you to have someone follow her. Someone she won't recognize, someone who can be invisible." I pick up her phone, turn it over in my hands. The screen stays black, locked. "And Marcus? Do it quietly. I don't want her to know we're watching."

"Understood." He pauses. "Xavier, if she's doing what I think she's doing—"

"Then I'll deal with it when we have proof." I set her phone back exactly where she left it. "Until then, we watch and wait."

Marcus nods, disappears.

I stand there staring at Natasha's phone, thinking about the woman upstairs who kissed me like goodbye. The woman I've loved for three years. The woman I'm starting to realize I might not know at all.

My phone buzzes. Text from Rafael.

***Found something else in the server logs. You need to see this.***

I head toward my office but stop at the bottom of the stairs. Water runs upstairs, Natasha is in the shower. Washing away whatever happened today, whatever secrets she's keeping.

She has no idea I'm starting to ask questions.

She has no idea everything is about to change.

I take the stairs to my office, close the door.

Time to find out who my wife really is.