Chapter Twenty-Six – The Hidden Drawer
Even the most careful liar leaves crumbs behind.
It happened on a Thursday morning.
Daniel had left early again, briefcase in hand, kissing her cheek with that same steady smile.
The sound of the car fading down the street was the sound of possibility.
Julia paced the rooms like a ghost, her fingers brushing every surface.
The locks had multiplied. The wine was gone. The books vanished.
But there had to be something he’d missed.
Some mistake.
In the study, she moved to the desk.
She had searched it before—every drawer, every folder, every hollow space.
But today, she pressed her hand along the underside of the top drawer and felt it:
A faint groove.
Her pulse spiked.
She pushed harder, sliding her fingers along the wood until—click.
The
