On the drive, Leonard kept calling from different numbers, and I already knew the sequence of lies he would follow.
First confusion, then anger, then a weak imitation of heartbreak, as if betrayal hurt him more than anyone else.
I pulled into a gas station, bought bitter coffee, and sat in my car while emails from attorneys and agencies confirmed everything had been received.
At 2:03 p.m., my attorney Stephen Rowland called and asked only three questions, “Are you safe, does he know how much you sent, and did you keep backups separate.”
“Yes,” I said, “no, and yes,” and he exhaled like a man hearing a fuse already burning.
He told me to avoid predictable places and share my location, because he understood this was no longer just a personal matter.
I drove to a hotel near Santa Fe, taking a route I had never used before, and news articles began appearing faster than I expected.
Within hours, Leonard’s name surfaced along with Isabella’s, and the story expanded into corruption tied to procurement contracts.