My sibling recommended that I set up a surveillance device in our home prior to departing on a one-month professional journey to a different town. I chose to heed his suggestion…

Better than nothing. Steps stopped at the bed. I felt someone’s presence, someone’s breathing.

Close, very close. Emily whispered voice. Familiar voice.

Very familiar voice. Emily, wake up. It’s me. I opened my eyes.

In the lunar light penetrating through the window, saw a familiar silhouette. Tall, slender, with characteristic posture. John.

I whispered, not believing my eyes. How did you end up here? They should have arrested you. Hush, he put his finger to his lips.

No time to explain. We need to leave. Fast.

While they haven’t discovered us. I sat up on the bed, trying to comprehend what is happening. John is here.

Not arrested, not in Mark’s hands. Somehow found me, came for me. Wants me to leave with him.

Where? Why? What is happening, John? How did you learn where I am? What happened to Mark’s operation? Later, Emily. I’ll explain everything later. Now we need to leave.

This is a question of life and death. Your life and death. In his voice was such tension, such anxiety, that I couldn’t not believe.

Something happened. Something serious. And he came to warn me, to save me.

Despite everything that was. Despite my betrayal, my deception, my game. Good, I said, standing up from the bed.

I’m with you. Quickly dressed, gathered the few things. John waited at the door, tense, wary, ready for action.

Ready? He asked in a whisper. Yes, I nodded. Where are we going? To the exit. There is a car.

But need to be very cautious. Here security, cameras, alarm. How did you pass all this? There are ways, he smiled mysteriously.

Let’s go. And stay close to me. We went out into the corridor.

Empty, quiet, only soft light of nightlights. John led me not to the elevator, but to the stairs. We descended to the first floor, cautiously opened the door.

Hall, reception. Behind the counter no one, only computer with turned on screen. Here, whispered John, pointing to the side door.

Not the main entrance, but some service exit. We passed through it, found ourselves outside. Night air, cool, fresh, filled with smells of forest.

The car is there, John pointed towards the trees. 200 meters. Need to be very quiet, very fast.

We went through the forest, trying not to noise, not to attract attention. I stumbled over roots, clung to branches, but John supported me, helped, directed. As in the old good times, when we were a couple.

When I believed him, trusted him, loved him without doubts, without fear, without suspicions. In a few minutes, we came out to a small clearing. There stood a car.

Not a black SUV, like Mark and his people, but an ordinary sedan, unremarkable, gray. John opened the door, gestured for me to get in. Faster, he whispered.

They can notice your absence at any moment. I got in the car, John behind the wheel. Started the engine, slowly, without headlights, drove onto the dirt road.

Only when we drove a significant distance from the complex, turned on the headlights, added speed. Now can talk, he said, looking at the road. You’re safe.

At least for now. What is happening, John? How did you find me? What happened to Mark’s operation? He sighed, for a moment took his gaze off the road, looked at me. There was no operation, Emily.

Mark wasn’t going to arrest me. This was a trap. For you.

For me? But why? Because you know too much. Saw too much. And now you represent a danger.

For Mark. For Patterson. For all of them.

I didn’t understand. What is he talking about? What danger? What do I know such that can threaten Mark? Patterson? Explain in more detail. I don’t understand.

John sighed again. This is complicated, Emily. And dangerous.

But you deserve to know the truth. The whole truth. After everything you had to go through.

He paused, gathering his thoughts. I’m not who I pretend to be. And not who Mark takes me for.

I work for the government, Emily. For a special service. We investigate Mark’s activities, collect evidence of his crimes.

I flinched. This is exactly what John told me on the phone when I was in Mark’s house. What I didn’t believe then.

What I considered another lie, another manipulation. «Prove it,» — I said. «Prove that you are telling the truth». John nodded, as if expecting this.

«Fair. In the glove compartment there is a folder. Get it».

I opened the glove compartment, found the folder. Thin, with the stamp «Top Secret» on the cover. Opened, began to flip through the documents inside.

ID in the name of John Johnson. But not a financial analyst, but a major of the FBI. Photos of Mark, Patterson, other people I didn’t know.

Recordings of conversations, protocols of meetings, observation reports. Everything looked official, serious, real. «This… this is true?» — I asked, not believing my eyes.

«You really… FBI agent?» «Yes,» — nodded John. «Under cover for five years already. Investigating the activities of Mark, Patterson and their group.

They launder money, finance illegal operations, bribe officials. Big, well-organized criminal network, with political connections. I continued to flip through the documents, unable to believe.

All these years, all this time. My husband was not who he pretended to be. Not a financial analyst, but an FBI agent under cover.

Not a traitor, but a defender of the law, fighter with crime. And Helen? She too. Agent? John paused, as if deciding how to answer.

Yes. Helen is my curator. We work together for three years already.

What you heard on the recording was a staging. We knew that Mark can listen, so we played roles. Said what he wanted to hear.

But. You were together. In our bed.

I heard. No, Emily. This was also pretense.

For the recording. We didn’t sleep together. Never.

I didn’t know whether to believe or not. This sounded too good to be true. Too convenient, too ideal.

But the documents in the folder looked real. And John looked at me with such sincerity, such pain, that it was hard not to believe. And Michael? He too.

Agent? John shook his head. No. Michael really works for Mark.

For three years already. He is his trusted person, right hand. And he really betrayed you, Emily.

Used, manipulated, set up. By Mark’s order. I flinched.

This was the most painful. My brother, my protector, my closest person. Traitor.

Not John, but Michael. Not husband, but brother. But why? Why did Michael betray me? Why work for Mark? Money, power, influence.

Ordinary motives. Mark pays well, cares about his people. And Michael? He was always ambitious.

Always wanted more than he had. And Mark gave him that. Or promised to give.

I nodded. This made sense. Michael was really always ambitious.

Always wanted more than he had. Always strived for success, for recognition, for wealth. And if Mark offered him that.

Why not? And the listening device? Who installed it? Michael? Yes. By Mark’s order. They wanted to check me, make sure I’m on their side.

That I really plan to steal money, escape from the country. That I’m not an agent under cover. And they heard exactly what they wanted.

Yes. Me and Helen, gave them exactly what they wanted to hear. Talks about theft, about escape, about new documents.

All this was part of our legend, our cover. We knew we were being listened to, and played our roles. I looked at the road, trying to comprehend what I heard.

It was too much. Too much information, too many revelations, too much truth, after so many years of lie. And what now? What will be further? Now we escape.

Far. Where Mark and his people can’t find us. Where we will be safe? At least temporarily. And the operation? Your investigation? Arrest of Mark, Patterson? John sighed.

The operation failed. Mark somehow learned about us, about our plans. Perhaps he has his sources in the FBI, perhaps we made a mistake.

In any case, now the main thing is not the operation, but your safety. Our safety. The operation can be resumed later. With other agents, with another approach.

But your life? It is one. And I can’t risk it. I looked at him, trying to see the truth in his eyes.

Is he speaking sincerely? Is my safety really more important to him than the operation, investigation, duty? Why didn’t you tell me earlier? I asked. Why didn’t you trust? We are married seven years, John. Seven years of lie, secrets, pretense. He lowered his gaze, as if couldn’t look me in the eyes.

Couldn’t. This was strict secrecy. No one should have known.

Even you. Especially you. For your safety.

The less you knew, the less risk that you accidentally give me away, my operation, my real face. And now? Why did you tell now? Because there was no choice. Mark suspects you, considers a threat.

I had to get you out, Emily. And for this you had to know the truth. The whole truth.

I nodded. This made sense. The logic of an agent under cover, a person living a double life, risking everything for duty, service, country.

And what now? What will be with us? John raised his gaze to me. In his eyes was pain, uncertainty, fear. But hope too.

I don’t know, Emily. This depends on you. From whether you can forgive me.

For the lie, for the secrets, for all these years of pretense. For putting you in danger, making you doubt, suffer, fear. I was silent, not knowing what to answer.

Could I forgive? Forget everything that happened, everything I went through, what I believed and disbelieved in these crazy days. Didn’t know. Wasn’t sure.

Give me time, I said finally. Too much has happened. I need to think, comprehend, accept.

John nodded, understanding. Of course. You have all the time in the world.

And now let’s just survive. We spent three days at the cottage. Quiet, calm days, filled with simple affairs.

Cooked food, heated the fireplace, walked around the lake. Talked little, mostly silent. Each thought about his own, digested what happened, decided what to do next.

I gradually began to believe John. His story, his documents, his behavior. Everything looked sincere, real.

He really could be an FBI agent, a person of duty, honor, hero, risking life for truth, justice, safety. And Mark could be a criminal, manipulator, person not stopping at anything for money, power, influence. And Michael could be a traitor, sold for promises of wealth, success, recognition.

But doubts still remained. Too much lie, too many games, too many manipulations. Who to believe? Whose side to take? Whose truth to accept? On the fourth day everything changed.

We sat on the veranda, drank tea, looked at the lake. Quiet, peaceful evening. And suddenly.

The sound of an approaching car. John tensed, stood up, approached the edge of the veranda, peering into the forest road. «Someone is coming,» — he said, and in his voice was alarm.

«Quickly into the house. And don’t come out, whatever happens». I ran inside, he after me.

Took out a pistol from the bag. Real pistol. Checked the magazine, removed from safety.

«Is this Mark?» — I asked, feeling my heart beating in my chest. «Possibly. Or his people.

I don’t know how they found us. I was sure we left no traces». The sound of the car became louder.

They were approaching. John approached the window, cautiously looked out. «Black SUV,» — he said…