Episode 5
1029 Words
Naomi's POV
My eyes stayed on the frame even as Raphael walked in, he noticed me staring. "I brought up some alcohol," he said, "but I'm not letting you drink too much."
I finally looked away from the photo, my eyes landing on him. Suspicion crept in before I could stop it. "Do you want me dead too?"
He raised an eyebrow, sitting down on the couch. "Is that a metaphor?"
"It's not. If you're part of this, you might as well kill me now and get it over with."
He stared at me for a long moment, like he was trying to find the thread connecting my words to something real. "You've been through hell in the last twenty-four hours. You're not yourself right now."
"You still haven't answered me."
He stood. "No, Naomi. I am not trying to kill you."
I pointed at the frame. "Then who is that man? And what's your relationship to him?"
He looked at the photo, and something like a smile crossed his face.
"That's Officer Jones. Good man, from what I know. Although he's closer to Allen than he is to me." He paused. "Why did you ask? Do you know him?"
I exhaled slowly. "That's the man who attacked us. The one who shot Ben."
The smile on his face vanished. "What?"
I narrowed my eyes. "I know you don't believe me."
"I'm trying to. It's just, Jones is a police officer, Naomi."
"So a police officer can't be an assassin?"
"That's not—" He stopped himself. "You need to rest. We can talk about all of this in the morning."
My heart started racing. "Allen knows I'm here. What if he sends Jones to finish it?"
"Shit." Raphael exhaled hard. "Go to bed, please. Nobody's getting to you here."
I held his gaze. I knew he didn't fully believe me yet, but I saw something else there too, he was concerned, and maybe grief of his own, sitting quietly behind his eyes. I didn't argue further. I went to bed.
He sank onto the couch, relief written across his shoulders.
Neither of us spoke for a while. "I can't sleep," I finally said. "You would have to join me on the bed."
He gave me a look, the one that meant he thought I was impossible. "Don't ask me for anything beyond that."
"I won't."
He nodded, crossing the room slowly. He lay down on top of the covers, fully dressed, a careful distance between us, close enough to be present, far enough to mean nothing more than that.
I don't remember when I slept off, but I woke up to an empty space beside me.
Raphael wasn't on the bed, he was across the room on the couch, laptop open, the glow lighting his face in the dark.
I cleared my throat. "Did you get any sleep?"
"Not much." He closed the laptop.
I sat up slowly. The hollow ache from the night before hadn't gone anywhere, but I felt a lot lighter than I did last night.
"I've been thinking about what you told me," Raphael suddenly said.
"Do you believe me now?"
"Honestly? Not fully." He set the laptop aside. "But it doesn't matter what I believe."
I held his gaze, waiting. "Do you know what your father's last words to me were?"
I shook my head. "No."
"He told me to look after his daughter." Raphael looked down at his hands. "I failed him. I assumed Allen would take care of you. I was wrong. I shouldn't have stepped back the way I did."
"It wasn't your fault."
"It was." He met my eyes. "But I'm telling you now, I'm not leaving you alone again. Not after everything you've been through."
Something in my chest tightened, the kind of feeling that comes right before tears, though none fell this time.
"Naomi," he called.
I looked up. "Are you certain it was Jones? The man in the photo. The one at your apartment."
"Yes." I didn't blink. "I'm certain."
"Then I need you to tell me everything. From the beginning. Don't leave anything out."
So I did. I told him everything exactly as it happened.
Raphael didn't interrupt once. He just listened, his jaw tightening more with every detail.
When I finished, he was quiet for a long moment.
"I'm struggling to believe my step-brother is capable of this," he finally said.
"But it's possible he's gotten himself involved in something ugly. I won't defend him just because we share a name."
He stood. "Get dressed. We're going to your apartment. If there's anything left to find, we'll find it there."
I got up from the bed, my legs steadier than I expected. "Before we go, I need your help with something else."
"What?"
"Divorce papers." I said it plainly, no hesitation. "I'm done being his wife."
Raphael studied me for a moment, like he was making sure I meant it.
"If that's what you want," he said, "I'll have them ready before the day is out."
"Thank you," I said.
Then we left together in his car and drove straight to my apartment. But when we got there, it wasn't what I expected.
Allen was already in the yard, standing with a few officers.
I felt his eyes lock onto Raphael's car the second we pulled up.
By the time we got out, the anger on his face was unmistakable. I didn't care.
"Naomi," he greeted but I ignored him.
"Mrs, Naomi, we're sorry about your son." The officers greeted me too. I walked straight past them, straight past Allen, heading for the front door like none of them existed.
"Naomi." Allen's voice followed me. I kept walking.
Behind me, I heard him say something to Raphael. "You think you can just walk into my life and take my wife?" Allen's voice rose.
"Nobody's taking anything," Raphael said. "She asked for help. I'm helping her."
"She's my wife."
"She doesn't want to be anymore."
I had almost reached the door when I heard it. "Stay the hell away from my wife."
I spun around in time to see Allen's fist connect with Raphael's jaw.
- Writer
