Wanted By My Husband's Murderer

The Contract

My breath caught in my chest, and for a second, the entire room seemed to spin. He knows. He's a detective. That was the only thought that flashed through my mind. He had trapped me.

Before he could even blink, I spun around on my heel and bolted toward the glass door of the cafe. I didn't care about my coffee, I didn't care about my purse, I just needed to run. I pushed past a small round table, my heart hammering against my ribs like a wild animal trying to break free.

But I wasn't fast enough.

Before my fingers could even touch the handle of the door, a strong hand gripped my wrist. He didn't slam me down or make a scene, but his hold was tight, stopping me right in my tracks. I yanked against his grip, my eyes stinging with fresh tears as I looked around the cafe, terrified that someone would notice us.

"Let me go!" I hissed, my voice cracking with desperation. "Please, just let me go!"

"Stop running," Adrian said softly, his voice completely calm as he stepped closer, using his body to shield me from the view of the other customers. "If you make a scene right now, everyone in this room will look at you. Is that what you want?"

I froze, my chest heaving as I looked up at him. "You're a cop," I whispered, the bitter taste of defeat rising in my throat. "You're going to take me back."

"I'm not a cop, Evelyn," he said, slowly loosening his grip on my wrist but keeping his hand close enough to stop me if I tried to jump again.

He pointed a finger down toward the counter where the waitress was busy clearing a tray. "And I'm not a detective either. You want to know how I figured it out?"

I swallowed hard. "How?"

"You paid for your coffee with a card, didn't you?" He said, raising an eyebrow. “The slip on the counter has your real name printed right at the top. If you want to hide from the entire country, you’ll need to do better than that.”

The words hit like a slap.

I hadn’t even thought about it. I covered my face with my free hand, a breathless, miserable laugh escaping my lips. I was terrible at this. I was going to end up in a cell by midnight.

"If you're not a cop," I said, lowering my hands and forcing myself to meet his eyes, "then why are you still holding me? Why not call them and collect the reward?"

"Because turning you in would be a waste," Adrian said.

The way he said it, calm and certain, made my stomach twist.

Before I could react, he guided me back toward the booth, and this time, I didn’t resist. My legs felt hollow as I sank into the seat. He sat across from me, calm as ever.

“You want to clear your name,” he continued, leaning forward slightly. “You want the truth out. So do I.”

"A common goal?" I shook my head weakly. “My husband is dead. The police think I killed him. What could you possibly want?"

“I have my reasons,” he answered simply. “And I have the resources to keep you hidden while we figure out what really happened. The police won’t look for you at my estate.”

“I don't even know you.”

My voice sounded small, even to me. My instinct screamed at me to run again but I glanced at the television.

The news reporter was talking again, showing a graphic of the forensic evidence. Fingerprints. A bloody knife. Everything they found pointed directly at me, spinning a story of a greedy, hateful wife.

Nobody was going to listen to a girl who claimed she was too drunk to remember. My own mother would probably turn me in herself just to save her own skin.

I was completely, utterly cornered.

Adrian reached into the inner pocket of his dark jacket and pulled out a small, folded stack of papers. He slid them across the table.

"What is this?" I asked, eyeing the document suspiciously.

“A marriage contract.”

I stared at him.

“If you marry me,” he continued smoothly, "I can legally protect you. I can move you into my estate, alter your records and keep you out of reach. In return, you act as my wife, and we clear your name together."

I stared at the paperwork, my mind spinning into a dark web of confusion. "This is insane. Why would you do this for a stranger? How did you even find me here?"

Adrian leaned back, a small, unreadable expression crossing his face. "When I heard the news about Corbin's death this morning, I went by your neighborhood to see what was happening. I saw you slip out the back door and run. You were terrified, Evelyn. I decided to follow you to make sure you didn't do something foolish. And then I watched you walk into this cafe."

He had been watching me. He had followed me for miles, silently tracking my steps while I thought I was completely alone.

A cold shiver ran through me, but mixed with the fear was a strange, desperate urge to believe him. I shouldn't trust anyone right now. But the game was already too risky, and if I walked out that door alone, I was dead anyway. Getting into a more dangerous game seemed like my only option.

"If I sign this," I whispered, my voice trembling as I looked from the papers back to his face, "you promise you'll help me?"

"You have my word," Adrian said quietly.

I didn't think about it any longer. I reached out, grabbed the pen he placed on top of the document, and flipped to the last page.

My hand shook so badly the signature looked uneven, but I forced the ink onto the paper, binding myself to a man I had met only ten minutes ago.

I pushed the papers back to him. Adrian took them, a dark smile spreading across his lips as he looked down at my name next to his. He stood up, extending a hand to help me out of the booth.

As I placed my small, trembling hand in his large one, he leaned down close to my ear, his voice sending a strange chill straight down my spine.

"I’ve waited a long time for this, Eve," he murmured.