Page 34 of Morally Corrupt

"Great, let me know."

A few hours later, Marcel comes back with the excellent news that Vlad had gotten him access to both locations' feeds. We take a car and head to Brighton Beach to inspect the footage.

Upon arriving, two men meet us. The first one is massive, his bald head covered in tattoos. He isn't precisely friendly looking. The other man is just as tall but leaner. He's dressed in a sleek black suit and has a pair of sunglasses on. As he spots us, he beams.

"Ah, Hastings. Fancy meeting you again and in our area." Vlad flashes me a smile and winks at Marcel.

"Thank you for the footage," I reply, knowing it will be a favor for a favor.

"No worries, you know how this works. Now, let's go in. We want to catch this shooter of yours too. Not good for the business, you know."

I nod and proceed inside with Marcel and Vlad's massive friend, who seems to always stand behind Vlad in a protective stance. We go to the restaurant first and quickly sift through their limited footage but with no luck. The hotel is a bit trickier since they have more cameras, and as such, we have to be more vigilant. We play the footage for that entire day.

"There's no one suspicious going in. Since it's a sniper, they must have something to carry the equipment," Marcel comments.

"There's no one going in but look here." I point towards the high schooler carrying a violin case. "Would that be big enough for a sniper rifle?"

Vlad laughs.

"Really, Hastings? Your shooter is a schoolgirl?"

"I don't see anyone else as suspicious," I continue. "It could be a disguise."

"A woman, really? Your shooter is a woman?" Vlad keeps shaking his head in disbelief.

"Wait," Marcel suddenly interjects. "This sniper, whoever it was, must have known about the meeting beforehand, and they must have scouted the place to watch the meeting."

"You're right," I agree. "Let's check a few days back; maybe we can find something. Maybe the schoolgirl appears twice?" I add, somehow hoping to prove Vlad wrong.

We rewind five days of footage. It takes us a long time, and Vlad is getting impatient. It's not until I see a familiar dress that I suddenly say, "Stop!"

"What?"

"That… play again." We play the tape again for that specific moment three days before the event at twelve p.m.

"Is that…?" Marcel looks at me with horror in his eyes, and I feel my stomach knotting.

"I think so." I nod, turning my head to study the figure entering the hotel once again. She's wearing a Chanel tweed dress in blue paired with high heels. I'm still not convinced. It can't be.

"I want the same person but leaving," I say, glued to the screen.

We fast forward until she's exiting the hotel, her hair wet and her face uncovered.

"That's…" Marcel whispers.

"My wife," I add, stunned on the spot.

Vlad chuckles and pats me on the back.

"Came to find a shooter, and you find your wife cheating. This has to be the best turn of events of the year."

"No, it can't be… Can I have a copy of this?" The man in charge of the footage looks at Vlad, who nods his approval.

I don't know precisely how we get out of there afterwards, but as we go back to the office, I can't shake the feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach. Because this doesn't just increase my suspicions. It confirms my worst fears. My wife is having an affair.

* * *

It started out small, now that I think about it. At the time, it never even crossed my mind to question her actions because I was so sure of her affection. She would work later than usual, and she would make excuses that some projects weren't coming along as she'd thought. Of course, at that time, I'd sympathized with her and done my best to support her through a period of perceived stress. But it wasn't stress, was it? The thing that should have clued me in the most was her reluctance to talk about our future family.

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