“That’s a weird question.”
“Not for a wife.”
She hesitated.
Then said quickly, “He wants to be rich. The most successful man.”
A quiet laugh escaped me.
Then others joined.
Because everyone knew—
Ethan never cared about money.
I tilted my head.
“Let’s try again.”
My voice sharpened.
“What is his daily habit? The one thing he never skips?”
She hesitated longer this time.
“He… likes clubs? Goes out a lot?”
Even Ethan let out a small, bitter smile.
He hated noise.
Hated crowds.
Loved silence.
Peace.
The room shifted.
People weren’t believing her anymore.
They were questioning her.
I stepped closer.
“Who are you?”
Her face went pale.
Her hands trembled.
“Or should I call the police?”
That broke her.
“No—please!” she cried. “I’ll tell the truth!”
The room went still.
“I’m not his wife,” she admitted.
Gasps filled the air.
“I was paid.”
My heart tightened.
“Paid?” someone shouted.
She nodded, crying.
“I needed money… and he offered it.”
My eyes narrowed.
“Who?”
Her hand slowly lifted.
Shaking.
Then pointed into the crowd.
Everyone turned.
And there he was.
Ethan’s best friend.
His business partner.
Standing frozen.
For a second, no one moved.
Then he tried to leave.
But people blocked him.
“Where are you going?”
Ethan stepped forward.