Chapter 2

** The Shadows Behind the Mask**

Isabelle woke to the familiar hum of the city outside her bedroom window. The morning light filtered in through the sheer curtains, casting a soft glow across the room. She blinked, her eyes adjusting to the brightness, and turned to her right—only to find Andrew’s side of the bed cold and untouched.

Her heart sank a little, though it wasn’t a surprise. Andrew had likely spent the night at the hospital again, immersed in yet another surgery. It had become a pattern—one that left her feeling more alone with each passing day. She threw the covers off and slipped out of bed, heading to the kitchen.

As she poured herself a cup of coffee, the sound of her phone buzzing on the counter startled her. Isabelle picked it up, her heart racing for no apparent reason. It was a text from Andrew.

"Good morning. Sorry I didn’t make it home last night. Surgery ran long. I'll be home late again tonight. Don’t wait up. - Andrew"

She stared at the message for a long moment, her fingers tightening around the phone. She could feel the resentment building inside her, but she pushed it down. What good would it do to get angry? This was their life now—him working endless hours, her waiting in the shadows. Isabelle sighed and set the phone down.

As she took a sip of her coffee, the house phone rang. The shrill sound made her jump, and she hurried to answer it.

“Hello?” she said, her voice still groggy from sleep.

“Isabelle Collins?” a male voice asked. It was deep, unfamiliar.

“Yes, speaking,” she replied, her curiosity piqued.

“This is Detective Harris from the Metro Police Department. We’re investigating a case, and we need you to come down to the station for questioning.”

Isabelle’s stomach dropped. “The police station? What’s going on?”

“I can’t disclose details over the phone, ma’am. But it’s imperative that you come in as soon as possible.”

Her mind raced. What could the police possibly want with her? She hadn’t done anything wrong—hadn’t even left the house for anything significant lately. A thousand thoughts rushed through her mind, but none of them made sense.

“Is this… is Andrew okay?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly.

“Yes, this isn’t related to his safety,” the detective replied. “But we do need you to come in today. Will 11 a.m. work?”

“I… I guess so. I’ll be there.”

As soon as she hung up the phone, Isabelle’s hands started shaking. What could this possibly be about? She paced the kitchen, trying to make sense of it all, but nothing added up. What could the police want with her? Had Andrew been involved in something?

By the time she arrived at the police station, Isabelle felt like she was walking through a dream—or rather, a nightmare. Her palms were slick with sweat, her heart pounding in her chest. She entered the station, immediately overwhelmed by the fluorescent lights and the steady hum of activity around her.

A receptionist greeted her and directed her to a small interrogation room at the back. As she stepped inside, a tall man with sharp features and intense eyes stood up to greet her. He introduced himself as Detective Harris, gesturing for her to take a seat.

“Mrs. Collins, thank you for coming in,” he began, taking a seat across from her. “I know this is unexpected, but we’re hoping you can help us with an ongoing investigation.”

Isabelle swallowed hard. “What kind of investigation?”

The detective leaned forward, his gaze piercing. “It involves your husband.”

Her blood ran cold. “Andrew? What… what’s going on? Has something happened to him?”

Harris shook his head. “No, not in the way you’re thinking. But we’ve been looking into some… irregularities. Medical fraud, possibly linked to organized crime.”

Isabelle’s heart stuttered in her chest. “Organized crime? Andrew would never—he’s a surgeon, for God’s sake! He saves people’s lives!”

The detective’s expression remained neutral, though his eyes gleamed with suspicion. “I understand this must be hard to believe, but we have reason to believe that Dr. Collins may be involved in more than just surgeries.”

Isabelle felt dizzy. The room seemed to close in around her. “This… this has to be some kind of mistake. Andrew would never—”

“Mrs. Collins,” Harris interrupted gently, “have you ever noticed anything unusual about your husband’s behavior? Strange phone calls, large sums of money moving through your accounts, meetings that seem... secretive?”

She blinked, her mind spinning. She thought about the long hours, the late nights, the way Andrew had become more distant, as if something heavy weighed on his mind. But could it really be this? Could her husband—her Andrew—be involved in something illegal? It didn’t seem possible.

“There was nothing,” Isabelle whispered, though even as the words left her mouth, doubt crept in. “I mean, he’s been… distracted, but that’s just because of work.”

“Distracted how?” the detective pressed.

Isabelle shook her head, trying to piece her thoughts together. “I don’t know… distant, like his mind is always somewhere else. But that’s because he’s a surgeon. He’s dedicated to his job.”

Harris nodded but didn’t seem convinced. “I understand. But we’ve been investigating a network of doctors involved in fraudulent billing and illegal organ trafficking. We’re hoping Andrew can help clear things up.”

Isabelle froze. Organ trafficking?

She stared at Harris, her mind racing. It was as though the ground had been ripped out from under her. “I… I don’t believe this,” she whispered. “You must be mistaken.”

Harris studied her carefully. “We hope we are. But we need your cooperation to rule Andrew out. We need access to your financial records, communications—anything that could help us understand what’s going on.”

Isabelle’s breath hitched in her throat. The realization hit her like a freight train. They didn’t just think Andrew was involved—they were suspecting her, too. They were looking for evidence that she might be complicit, or at least aware of what her husband was doing. Panic surged through her, but she pushed it down, forcing herself to stay calm.

“I’ll cooperate,” she said, her voice steadier than she felt. “But I don’t think you’ll find anything. Andrew’s not… he’s not that kind of man.”

Harris leaned back, his gaze never leaving her. “We’ll see.”

The drive home felt surreal. Isabelle’s thoughts spiraled as she replayed the conversation with Detective Harris. Organ trafficking? How had she missed this? Was it even possible that the man she loved, the man who had dedicated his life to saving others, could be hiding something so dark?

When she arrived home, the house felt emptier than ever. She stood in the foyer, staring at the polished floors and pristine decor. Everything looked perfect—untouched, like a stage set for a life that didn’t really exist. Her marriage, her perfect life, felt like a facade, one that was crumbling before her eyes.

Suddenly, a new, terrifying thought took hold of her. What if Andrew was involved in this? What if everything she thought she knew about him was a lie? And worse—what if this investigation put her in danger?

Her phone buzzed again, startling her. She fumbled to grab it, hoping it was Andrew with some mundane explanation. But when she looked at the screen, it wasn’t a message from him. It was from an unknown number.

"You think you can hide from the truth, Isabelle? You’ll see soon enough."

Her blood ran cold, her hands shaking as she stared at the message. This wasn’t just about Andrew. Someone was watching her, too.

Isabelle’s breath came faster, panic setting in as she realized that she wasn’t just caught in the middle of a police investigation. She was trapped in something far more dangerous—and there was no telling how deep it went.