The Green Between Us

Elena stood at the kitchen counter, her hands working the fresh spinach into a mound, squeezing until her knuckles turned white. The green water dripped into the sink, staining the stainless steel like something forensic. Something about the color reminded her of Sunday mornings before everything curdled.

'Marcus wants you at the padel court at three,' Greg said, not looking up from his tablet. 'Says you've been avoiding him.' He laughed, that dry corporate chuckle that used to charm her in conference rooms. 'Jesus, El. It's just a game.'

Just a game. The phrase settled between them like something radioactive.

Three years of marriage, two of him working as a 'compliance consultant' for Paragon Dynamics. Two of her slowly piecing together the irregularities: the encrypted calls at 2 AM, the burner phones in his glove compartment, the way his eyes tracked exits in every restaurant they entered. The final confirmation had come last week when she'd breached his home office setup—stolen credentials, surveillance photos, asset transfers. Her husband wasn't compliance. He was corporate espionage. A spy for whoever paid the most.

She'd been gathering evidence ever since. Every document, every digital footprint, tucked away like contraband.

The padel club was their neutral ground, where powerful men pretended to be ordinary, where secrets were whispered over post-match gin. Marcus ran Paragon. He was Greg's handler, though neither used that word. The way Marcus looked at her—speculative, assessing—made her skin prickle. He knew something was wrong. Greg's performance was slipping, and Marcus was the kind of man who cut losses.

'I'll be there,' Elena said, rinsing the spinach one last time. The water ran clear. 'Want me to make your favorite salad for after?'

Greg finally looked up. For a moment, she saw the exhaustion beneath the polish, the man who'd been living a double life for so long he'd forgotten what truth felt like. 'That would be perfect,' he said softly. 'Perfect.'

She plated the spinach, her fingers trembling. The asset transfer was scheduled for tonight. Marcus would be there. So would federal agents, tipped off anonymously. Greg would be arrested before the first serve.

Elena picked up her phone, thumb hovering over SEND. The anonymous tip was ready. All she had to do was press.

Instead, she deleted it.

'Greg,' she said, turning toward him. 'We need to talk.'

He met her eyes. For the first time in years, he didn't look away.