THE VELVET BETRAYAL

Chapter 5: The Last Choice

Isabella POV

I was struck like a wave with what Agent Martinez said. I did good. She said I did good. However, nothing is good at this moment. It seems like everything is not right and not broken, but something twisted inside out. I see her standing all there, in the doorway, with her badge and her files, and I know she has always known that. She knew Marco was dirty. She has been aware that I have been compromised. She has been looking out at us as though we were chess pieces.

Marco tries to run. He goes towards the window as though he is going to jump over. but he does not get two steps off, being seized by two agents. He fights them shouting that it is all a mistake. That he was doing his job. The fact that he was defending everyone. Nobody is listening to him any more.

I see him strapping the cuffs of my ex-handler. I see them read him in his rights. I see the man I had totally trusted as a criminal arrested for perpetrating offences I was never aware of. And I feel nothing. I expected to either feel angry or betrayed or relieved. But I just feel empty.

Martinez, the agent, concedes so far into the office. Her eyes show respect toward Dominic. She gazes at me with what passes as pity. Her gaze is on Marco in a manner that she scrubbed his face off her shoe.

You are also under arrest because you run a criminal organization, Mr. Rossi, she says to Dominic. You are entitled to keep silent. Whatever you say will and can be used against you before a court of law.

Dominic does not resist. He does not fight. He does not run. He is merely standing there with my hand still in his and is hearing Agent Martinez introducing him to his rights. His face is calm. His voice remains stable and does not change when he speaks.

"I understand," he says simply.

Two additional agents go out to handcuff him. They are not able to reach him before one of them is held. As soon as his fingers lose my hands, I feel as though I am falling. as I have lost the only thing that played me to the ground.

"Agent Chen," Agent Martinez says, turning to me. "We need to talk. Alone."

Domic looks back at me as they take him away. His gloomy eyes meet mine and hold me a moment. I see everything in that look. I see his love. I see his fear. I can imagine how he is accepting what is to come. The agents then usher him out of the office and he is gone.

The door is closed by agent Martinez. We are alone now. Her and me all alone in this large office that now seems very small and quiet.

How many years have you known Marco? I ask.

Approximately six months, she says, making herself a seat in one of the chairs. My team began pointing out irregularities. Blocked transfer requests. Suspicious bank deposits. We started digging. It was some time to put it all together though Marco created a trail. He was not careful enough. He believed that he was too intelligent to be found out.

I sat down across from her. Legs are no longer strong enough to support me.

Why would you not have arrested him earlier? I ask.

It had to do with knowing just how deep limitlessly the corruption was, she says. We had to know whether you were involved. We must have guarded you against being drawn into his depths. So we watched. We waited. And we heard that you were attempting to drop the case. You had been making an attempt to do the right thing.

Martinez, who happens to be an agent, retrieves one of her files. Sliding it over the desk to me, she slides it. I open it and see photographs. Pictures of me and Dominic together. Photos of us at restaurants. Photos of us at his mansion. Pictures of events that I believed to be personal. Pictures of a life I had imagined.

These were taken even before I knew that Marco was dirty, she says. When I spotted the trend I was only carrying out a background check on you, which was routine. The target was falling in love with you. In all the photographs it is obvious. And next you began asking to be transferred. You wanted out."

I close the file. I am not able to look at the pictures anymore.

"What happens now?" I ask.

And now you have a choice and I shall speak just a little, just a little more firmly, Agents Martinez, says, and her voice is pleasant and firm. You may give us full cooperation in our investigation. You are able to give evidence against Dominic Rossi in court. You may do us the favor of building us an airtight case, which will cause him to go away for a long time. In its turn, we will make sure that your partnership with Marco remains confidential. Your career will survive. You can return to the job of an FBI agent.

I feel my heart stop. Go back to being an FBI agent. That was always the dream. This was what made me get into the bureau in the first place. However, I can envision myself sitting in an office, doing paperwork and obeying laws and feel that I cannot breathe.

"And if I do not cooperate?" I ask.

Mrs. Martinez is bending backwards in her seat. She observes me keenly as though she is reading my mind.

And surely even Dominic Rossi will then have a jail term, she says. You need not make us any more evidence. Even without your evidence, he can receive a lighter sentence. Perhaps a decade and not twenty. And you will be branded as a person who sabotaged a federal investigation. But you've got yourself out, career-wise.

I get on my feet and walk towards the window. Dominic is getting loaded into one of the black SUVs, which can be seen down below. He does not struggle. He does not look back. He simply gets into the car and vanishes.

"I need time to think," I say.

Until tomorrow morning, yes, Agent Martinez, you have, says he. She gets on her feet and approaches the door. Therefore we proceed with or against your cooperation. The choice is yours, Isabella. I should know, but you see you have to know something.

I turn to look at her.

According to her, "love and duty are not always compatible. There is only too much sometimes to choose one or the other. You cannot have both."

She shuts the door behind her and goes out of the office. And I am left alone in the office of Dominic, with the specters of three years of lies and love and betrayal.

My phone buzzes. It belongs to an anonymous text. Only five words which try my blood:

"Do not trust Sarah Martinez. She is lying."

My palms are shaking as I glance at the screen on the phone. The source of the message was within the FBI database. Of one in whom there is an access to everything. Someone I do not know, how to identify him.