Monk by Ivy Black
Chapter Three
Kasey
“Miguel Zavala,” I announce.
There is a brief flash of acknowledgement, perhaps even fear, that crosses his face. He quickly gets it under control again. If there’s one thing Spencer has always been good at, it’s controlling his emotions. Or at least, controlling the outward expression of his emotions.
He sits back in his seat and steeples his fingers. I stand on the other side of his desk, staring daggers through him. After spending an hour Googling Miguel Zavala, I’ve spent most of the night tossing and turning, filled with rage and terrified by what I’ve just found, by what my husband—such as he is—has exposed us to and brought into our lives.
“Should I know who that is?” he asks.
“Don’t play stupid with me, Spencer. I heard you talking with that man last night.”
He sits up, his expression darkening. “You were eavesdropping?” he says angrily. “What gives you the right—”
“Uh-uh. I’m not letting you deflect the conversation this time. You always do that.”
“Kasey, the fact that you were spying—”
“Shut up. Just stop it,” I cut him off. “Miguel Zavala.”
“Yeah, you said that already,” he snaps. “And again, should I know who that is?”
His eyes narrow and a furtive expression crosses his features. For a brief moment, he looks like an animal that’s been cornered. My words have him rattled, but I can see him gauging them. He’s not sure what I know exactly, and he doesn’t want to say too much lest he give himself away.
“Don’t play these games with me, Spencer.”
“I’m not playing any games with you.”
I sigh and tug on the end of my hair, my frustration growing. Things between Spencer and me haven’t been great for a while. And I’ve suspected he’s been involved in some shady business. But I never think he’ll be entangled in anything like this. And I never think, no matter how strained our marriage has become, that he will ever lie to me. Or that he will knowingly and willingly put me in danger.
I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. “You know exactly who Miguel Zavala is,” I say. “I heard you discussing it with that man last night.”
His lips are pursed, his face growing harder. Angrier. “This is none of your business, Kasey.”
“You brought this into our house. That makes it my business.”
“You’re my wife. Not my business partner. I don’t answer to you,” he spits.
I recoil as if he’s struck me. He’s never spoken to me like that before. We’ve fought before, sure. But the venom and viciousness in his voice just now isn’t like anything I’ve heard from him before.
“A drug cartel, Spencer?” I hiss. “You’re doing business with the head of the most notoriously violent drug cartel in Mexico?”
Spencer stands up, his chair almost tipping over backward. He starts to stalk around one side of his desk, so I go around the other, making sure to keep it between us. I don’t really think he will physically hurt me. But then, I’ve never thought he’ll work with a drug cartel boss, either. Right now, I don’t know what to think.
My foot strikes something on the ground and I cut a glance down. It’s a gym bag that’s open enough for me to see the stacks of money inside. I look away from it, feeling agitated as I move around the desk. Spencer is looking at me strangely, a maniacal glint in his eye that sends a cold chill running through my veins.
And then, he stops. He scrubs his face with his hands, then looks at me. The anger is still simmering in his eyes, but he manages to rein it in for the moment.
“Look, it’s not like I’m part of the cartel, Kasey. All I’m doing is moving money around. And they pay me very well to do it,” he tries to explain.
“They murder people. You’re helping them murder people.”
“Oh, grow up. I’m not helping them murder anybody. And let’s be honest, you haven’t complained about the lifestyle I’m providing for you,” he fires back.
I feel my face grow warm with anger as he throws that in my face. It’s not the first time he’s done it, and it never fails to piss me off every single time. I’ve never been a materialistic woman. Things don’t interest me nearly as much as they interest Spencer. And definitely nowhere near as much as he seems to think they interest me.
Having material wealth has never been high on my list of priorities. I can be happy in a small home—one that actually feels like a home—rather than this sterile monstrosity. But more than his inference that I’m a money-grubbing gold digger, what infuriates me more than anything is knowing exactly what I’ve sacrificed. For him. And the fact that he doesn’t acknowledge it.
“I could have provided for myself, you know. I was on track to be a lawyer. Just like you.”
My voice is cold. Hard. Yet he just smirks at me, kindling my rage.
“Probably not just like me,” he says blithely. “And let’s be honest, it’s not like you were going to be the next Gloria Allred or anything.”
“How dare you, you rude, arrogant, condescending son of a bitch,” I say, my voice barely more than a whisper.
His words hit me like a punch to the gut and leave me breathless for a moment. A tear rolls from the corner of my eye and my vision shimmers as the anger coursing through me temporarily robs me of my ability to speak. All I seem to be able to do is stand there, gaping at him like a fool.
For him to say that to me is as unbelievable as it is hurtful. Not to mention the fact that it’s totally and completely untrue. And he knows it. He knows exactly what I’ve sacrificed—what I’ve given up. For him.
“Things haven’t been good between us for a long while now,” I say quietly. “But I never expected that you’d start lying to me, Spencer. Nor did I think you’d work with a fucking drug cartel.”
He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “Don’t you think you’re being a little dramatic about all of this? It’s not like I’m on the streets selling. Or cutting people’s heads off. I’m moving money around. That’s it. That’s all I do.”
“And by moving that money around, you’re helping those people out on the streets sell drugs and cut people’s heads off,” I counter.
“Seriously, you’re being hysterical. This is ridiculous,” he snaps. “What’s the difference between moving money for Miguel Zavala or some Wall Street CEO?”
“Other than Wall Street CEO’s not leaving a trail of corpses behind them?”
He blows out a frustrated breath and throws his hands up, shaking his head. He’s acting like this is nothing more serious than me catching him doing something innocuous like fudging on our taxes or having one too many when he is out with the boys. He acts like working for a man who murders people by the hundreds—maybe even the thousands—is nothing to be worked up about.
I shake my head, feeling the last pieces of my heart shatter. We’ve drifted apart and our relationship hasn’t been good for a while, but deep down, I’ve always hoped he’ll snap out of whatever he’s been dealing with and come back to me.
“I thought you were just going through something. That you’d get through it and be the man I fell in love with again,” I say, my voice trembling. “But I don’t even know you anymore, Spencer.”
He scoffs. “I’m not the one who’s changed. I’m ambitious and live with a fire in my belly to always do more. If anybody’s changed, it’s you. You’ve lost that fire inside of you. It’s sad, really.”
I clench my jaw and stare at him, not recognizing the man before me. This isn’t the man I fell in love with. He’s not the man I gave everything up for. I don’t even know who he is.
“Gaslighting me won’t work, Spencer.”
“It’s hardly gaslighting if it’s a fact.”
I feel my insides twisting and turning being tied into knots. My eyes burn and my vision shimmers as I struggle to keep the tears that are welling up. For a long time now, I’ve kept my emotions locked in a box deep inside. But the lock’s been shattered, and now, everything is rushing to the surface.
The chasm that’s grown between us is vast. And I see now that there is no going back. There is no way to bridge it. It’s only going to grow wider and deeper as time goes on, and as unhappy as I’ve been for a while now, if I don’t do something about it, that unhappiness is only going to multiply. And I don’t want to spend the rest of my years feeling miserable and alone. I’ve felt that way long enough already.
“I want a divorce,” I state.
My eyes widen slightly as the words unexpectedly slip from my mouth. But as they do and I hear them with my own ears, I realize that it’s true. It’s something I’ve been feeling for a while, but never having the strength to admit. Not even to myself. Now that it’s out there, I realize how right it is.
“No. You don’t,” he replies, his voice icy.
I nod. “Yes, Spencer. I do.”
He closes the distance between us in the blink of an eye. He pushes me against the shelves that line the wall, and I cry out as the wood bites into my back. His forearm is pressed against my throat, the pressure of it starting to cut off my air.
“Stop,” I croak. “What in the hell is wrong with you?”
He presses harder, his eyes narrowing, a look of manic glee etched upon his features. Spencer leans closer to me, his warm breath washing over my skin, his gaze locked onto mine.
“You need to get this through your head right here, right now. I’m not going to give you a divorce, Kasey. You are mine. You belong to me.”
He pushes harder and I gasp for air. Dark spots hover at the edges of my vision, and I feel myself growing lightheaded. I try to speak, try to tell him he’s choking me to death, but the words won’t come out. I don’t have enough air to breathe, let alone speak. All the while, Spencer just stares at me, his face hovering scant inches from mine, an expression of malicious delight on his face.
And then, he lets go. My legs give out under me and I spill to the floor, gasping, sucking in deep lungfuls of air. It takes a moment, but the dizziness begins to fade, and I’m finally able to breathe freely again. As I look up at him, Spencer is staring at me with a look of pure contempt. In that moment, for the first time, I truly believe he can kill me—and will do so if I push him too far.
Twin tendrils of rage and fear snake coil around my heart, squeezing it tight I can’t move. It renders me speechless for a moment.
“I’m going to the office now, and then I have a meeting,” he says, his voice harder than stone. “And when I get back, I expect you to have this garbage out of your head and be fucking normal again. Do you understand?”
The disdain—bordering on hatred—I hear in his voice adds to the mounting pile of fear. Where has all this come from? Has it been here all along and I just haven’t seen it? Has me uncovering what he’s really been up to—laundering money for a drug cartel—exposed him for the monster he’s truly been all along? Have I uncovered the Mr. Hyde that lurks beneath him?
“You’re mine, Kasey. You’re always going to be mine. I won’t allow anybody else to have you. So, get that shit out of your head now. Do you understand me?”
I just want this to end. Want him to get away from me, so I do the only thing I can think of to end the argument: I nod. He stares at me for a long moment, then nods, a slow, feral smile creeping across his face.
“Good girl,” he says. “And get yourself cleaned up while I’m gone. I want you to look your best when I get home.”
He walks out of his office, leaving me where I’ve fallen earlier. And as I listen to the hard thump of his footsteps ringing off the marble floor receding, I’m able to take a deep, quivering breath and let it out slowly. The front door slams shut, plunging the house into complete silence and stillness.
I sit still for a long moment, fighting off the waves of emotion, but I’m soon overwhelmed by them and begin to sob.
***
“Yes, David, that’s exactly what I mean,” I say, switching my phone to my other ear.
“Are you all right?” he asks.
“I will be once I get out of here.”
I throw some more clothes into my bag, stuffing it all down to make it fit. I glance at the clock and see that it’s just past two. I don’t expect Spencer home for several more hours, but given how things have gone this morning, I can’t rely on that. He will be home any minute, and I know I’m obligated to be gone long before that happens.
I’ve given David a rough sketch of everything that has happened today, leaving out the fact that Spencer is laundering money for a brutal and violent drug cartel. Sometimes, less is more, and I don’t think David needs to hear the gritty details. Not yet, and not unless I have to tell him everything for some reason.
“How bad is it?” he asks.
“Bad enough that I’m escaping while he’s gone.”
He whistles. “I’m sorry, Kase.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for. If I’d listened to you back in law school and not given everything up…” My voice trails off. I don’t need to finish the sentence because David already knows where I’m going with it. He always does. I swear, sometimes I feel like he knows me better than I know myself.
“Have you suggested couples therapy? I can give you the name of the therapist Michael and I still see. She’s worked wonders for us and—”
“I actually suggested it before. Spencer won’t hear of it. Says we’re fine and there’s no need for us to see a therapist.”
“Oh, honey,” he commiserates with me. “In that case, I’m glad you’re getting the hell out of there. A man who’s not willing to work on your issues together doesn’t deserve you.”
“Thanks, David,” I reply and try to blink back the tears that are pooling in my eyes. “You’ve always been there for me. You’ve always had my back, and I just… I just want you to know how much I appreciate you.”
“You’ve been there for me just as often, hon. We’re family, you and I.”
I nod. “Yes, we are.”
I switch ears again and start fishing through my jewelry box, taking everything that’s mine, but leaving everything Spencer’s given me. He can keep it as far as I’m concerned.
“Okay, I can have the papers drawn up by this afternoon,” he tells me.
“Thank you, David. You are a lifesaver.”
“I’ll send a process server to deliver the papers, but you may have to see him to finalize it all, honey.”
I sigh and tug on the end of my hair again. It’s a nervous tic I’ve had for as long as I can remember, and no matter how much I’ve tried, I can’t seem to break it. Though at least, it only seems to resurface in times of extraordinary stress.
“I suppose I don’t have grounds for a restraining order?” I ask hopefully.
“Afraid not. There’s no history of domestic violence. He’s an upstanding citizen. There’s no paper trail, and unless you have visible bruises…”
He lets his words taper off, but he doesn’t need to finish the statement. I already know. I’s just hoping he’ll have some way to wiggle around the system a bit. Not that I think an order or protection will do much good in the practical sense. If he wants to kill me, a piece of paper isn’t going to stop him. But at least then, there will be a paper trail.
“I’ll make sure to include a declaration that if he wishes to speak to you, he does so through me. I can at least do that much,” David tells me. “And if there does need to be a face to face, we’ll do it here in my office. Nowhere else, and definitely not alone with him.”
“You are a lifesaver, David.”
“Let’s hope that’s not in the literal sense.”
“Right now, I don’t even know.”
“You’re not making me feel a whole lot better about this,” he says.
“Hey, at least I’m getting out of here.”
“That’s a good point. Okay, let me get started on the paperwork, and I’ll check in on you later. Let you know how it’s all going.”
A small ripple of relief washes through me. At least the ball is rolling in that portion of what I need to do. Now, I just need to get out of here and get somewhere safe. I’m not sure where that is just yet, but I’ll figure it out once I get on the road.
“Hey, before you hang up, don’t forget to disable the tracking on your phone. And also, get rid of the GPS unit in your car. Don’t let him find you,” David tells me.
“Thanks, hon. I really appreciate everything you’re doing for me.”
“Hey, it’s what friends are for, right?”
“Love you,” I tell him.
“Love you back.”
I disconnect the call and quickly turn off the location apps on my phone. I’m grateful to David for a great many things, none more so than that. I’m so haired out right now, I probably will not have even thought of it.
After dropping my phone into my purse, I zip up my bags and carry them all downstairs. I’ve already pulled my Range Rover around the circular drive and parked in front of the porch with the back door open to make it quick and simple. I toss my bags into the back seat, then turn around and run back into the house, scrolling down the checklist in my head.
After Spencer left, I didn’t know I was going to do this. I sat there on the floor of his office for about an hour, completely numb. But once my mind seized the idea, I ran with it. If he’s not going to let me go, I’ll just have to facilitate my own escape. He probably thinks he’s got me scared and subdued to the point that I’ll sit meekly by. And if he actually thinks that, it just proves he doesn’t know the first thing about me.
I run into his office, looking around to see if there’s anything of mine I want to take with me, but don’t see anything. I’m just about to turn around and leave, when my eyes land on the gym bag in the corner. It’s still sitting open, and I can see the bundles of cash. I’m going to need money since I’m positive the first thing Spencer will do is cancel all of my cards and restrict access to my bank account, probably assuming that once I’m broke, I’ll come crawling back to him.
I silently chastise and kick myself for agreeing to give him control of my personal funds. But then, in my own defense, I’ve never thought I’ll be in this situation. I’ve always known I will be able to trust him and never have I imagined myself giving him control over my life. It’s been a given for me that if there is going to be one person in the world I can trust, it will be the man I married.
“Yet one more mistake to add to the pile,” I mutter to myself.
Not giving myself time to think about it, I dash across the office and grab the bag. I’m not sure how much is in here, but it looks like enough to keep me on the run for a little while. I zip it up, run back out, and toss the bag along with the others, then slam the door. I jump into the driver’s seat, then recalling David’s words to me, take the GPS unit out of its holder attached to the dash. I disconnect its cables, then toss it out and onto the driveway.
A smile creeps across my face, and as I start the car and begin to pull away, I feel a flutter in my heart. It’s a good feeling. One I haven’t felt in a very, very long time.
Driving away from the house I’ve never wanted and the man who’s become a monster, I feel lighter… happy.
