The affairs, the business intelligence, the divorce, all of it. I thought I was seducing her, but she was playing me from the beginning. How so? She knew I'd transferred to Hartwell before I even applied for the job.
She'd been tracking my career, waiting for the right opportunity to reconnect. When I got hired, she made sure to be assigned to the orientation committee. The coffee arrived, bitter and black as the conversation. I took a sip and studied Nathan's face.
He looked like a man who'd just realized he'd been swimming with sharks. She told you we dated in college? She mentioned it. Did she tell you why we broke up?
You chose your career over the relationship? Nathan shook his head. That's what she wanted everyone to think. The truth is, I broke up with her because I found out she was cheating on me with her economics professor, sleeping with him for grades, then using the information she learned in his bed to manipulate other students.
The diner's fluorescent lights hummed overhead, casting harsh shadows across Nathan's face. In the distance, I could see Lisa sitting at the counter pretending to read a newspaper. Why should I believe you? Because I have proof.
He pulled out his phone and showed me a series of text messages. She's been documenting everything. Your reactions, your behavior, your activities, building a case that you're unstable and potentially dangerous. I scrolled through the messages, my stomach sinking with each one.
Megan had been recording our conversations, photographing my belongings, even noting the times I came and went from the house. It was a level of surveillance that bordered on obsession. She's going to claim you threatened her, Nathan continued. That you've been stalking me, vandalizing my property, and making her fear for her safety.
She's got witnesses lined up, evidence prepared, even a restraining order ready to file. What witnesses? Her co-workers, some of your neighbors, even Emily. Emily won't testify against me.
She will if she thinks you're dangerous. Megan's very good at manipulating people's perceptions. I thought about Emily's questions that morning, her comments about violence and instability. Had Megan been coaching her, preparing her to see me as a threat?
"What do you want from me?" I asked. "I want to make a deal. I'll testify about Megan's real plans, provide evidence of her manipulation, help you prove that this whole thing was a setup. In exchange, you make the vandalism charges go away, and don't pursue the business espionage angle.
And why would you betray the woman you've been sleeping with? Nathan's expression hardened because she's planning to throw me under the bus, too. Once the divorce is final and she gets her settlement, I'm going to have an unfortunate accident. Nothing fatal, just enough to put me in the hospital and out of the picture permanently.
That's paranoid, is it? She's already got my replacement lined up. Some lawyer from her firm who specializes in asset protection. Older guy, established practice, no messy emotional complications.
The pieces of the puzzle were falling into place, creating a picture that was both more complex and more disturbing than I'd imagined. Megan wasn't just cheating on me. She was orchestrating an elaborate con game designed to destroy multiple lives for her own benefit. "Prove it," I said.
Nathan showed me more text messages. These between Megan and someone named Richard Steinberg. The conversations were coded but clear enough. Discussions about removing obstacles and cleaning up loose ends that could only refer to Nathan and me.
Richard's the lawyer. Richard's the next victim. She's going to marry him, take half his assets in another divorce, and move on to the next target. It's what she does.
I stared at the messages, trying to process the scope of Megan's deception. This wasn't a midlife crisis or a moment of weakness. This was a criminal enterprise disguised as a marriage. "How many others have there been?" I asked.
"I don't know, but I found records of at least three other marriages, all ending in divorce, with significant financial settlements for her." The waitress refilled my coffee without being asked, probably grateful for any activity in the otherwise empty diner. Outside, the warehouse district was quiet except for the occasional truck rumbling past on the highway. "What's your proposal?" I asked. "We work together to expose her, pull our evidence, coordinate our stories, make sure she can't manipulate the narrative.
In exchange, I disappear quietly, leave town, start over somewhere else, never contact either of you again. It was tempting. Nathan had evidence I needed, and his testimony could corroborate the pattern of manipulation and fraud, but trusting him felt like making a deal with the devil. I need time to think about it.
I said, "You don't have time. She's filing the restraining order Monday morning along with the divorce papers. Once that happens, you'll be fighting an uphill battle against a system that's designed to protect women from abusive husbands. I'm not abusive.
Doesn't matter. She's got documentation that says you are, and that's all the court will care about. I finished my coffee and stood up. I'll give you an answer tomorrow.
Jack, wait. Nathan grabbed my arm as I started to leave. There's something else. Something about Emily.
I sat back down, my pulse quickening. What about Emily? Megan's been poisoning her against you, telling her stories about your temper, your drinking, your history of violence. She's convinced Emily that you're dangerous, and that she needs to choose sides.