vehicle enter what sounded like a parking garage.
The engine stopped.
Marcus spoke again.
“We’re here.”
A woman’s voice answered from nearby.
“Did you bring the paperwork?”
“Yes,” Marcus replied. “Julian said everything needs to be finished before Friday.”
There was the sound of a folder opening.
Papers being handled.
Then the unmistakable click of a camera.
The woman spoke again.
“We need a few more shots. The last set wasn’t convincing enough.”
Marcus sighed.
“Fine. But let’s get it done.”
I immediately paused the recording.
Photographs.
Documents.
A secret meeting place.
And my husband was coordinating everything.
I couldn’t understand why.
I hadn’t done anything wrong.
I wasn’t involved in any dispute.
As far as I knew, our marriage was stable.
So why would Julian arrange secret photographs during hours I couldn’t account for?
And why would he want me to believe those missing hours were simply a result
