Updated Oct 22, 2025 • ~14 min read
They should have left for Montana immediately.
Should have gotten in the car the day after sentencing and driven until Los Angeles was nothing but a bad memory in the rearview mirror.
But Detective Barnes called the morning after Marcus was transferred to federal prison.
“We need you both to come in. There’s something you need to see.”
“What is it?” Vincent asked, phone on speaker.
“Marcus’s cell was searched. Standard procedure for maximum security intake.” Barnes paused. “We found something. Hidden. Something he wasn’t supposed to have.”
“What?”
“Just come in. Please. It’s important.”
The LAPD headquarters felt different now. Less threatening. Paige walked through the halls holding Vincent’s hand—her husband’s hand—with her head up instead of hunched in fear.
Barnes led them to a conference room where the table was covered in evidence bags.
“When they searched Marcus’s cell, they found this sewn into his mattress.” She held up a small USB drive. “Encrypted. Took our tech guys all night to crack it.”
“What’s on it?” Paige asked.
Barnes plugged it into a laptop. The screen filled with folders. Dozens of them. Each labeled with a woman’s name.
Paige felt sick. “How many?”
“Forty-three. Dating back fifteen years.” Barnes opened the first folder. Inside were photos, videos, documents. “Marcus kept records. Of everyone. Every woman he dated, every woman he hurt, every woman he manipulated. He documented it all.”
“Why?” Vincent’s voice was hollow. “Why would he keep evidence of his own crimes?”
“Control. Power. Maybe he got off on it.” Barnes looked disgusted. “But Mr. Hartley, there’s more. And it involves your mother.”
She opened another folder. This one contained emails between Marcus and Victoria. Hundreds of them, spanning years.
Vincent leaned forward, reading. His face went pale.
Mother,
Another one is threatening to go to police. The Hayes girl. I need $200k to make her go away.
– M
Marcus,
This is the third time this year. Your father is getting suspicious. Can’t you just be more careful?
– V
It’s handled now. She’ll stay quiet. But we need to talk about the Nevada property. I need somewhere more secure.
You mean somewhere to hide them. Marcus, this has to stop.
It won’t. And you’ll keep helping me because if I go down, I take the whole family with me. Don’t forget what I know about you.
Paige watched Vincent read, watched his world shatter again.
“She knew.” His voice was barely a whisper. “Not just about the early incidents. About everything. She helped him. She gave him money. She suggested the Nevada compound.”
“There’s more.” Barnes opened another folder. Financial records. Shell companies. Offshore accounts. “Marcus wasn’t acting alone. Victoria helped him set up the infrastructure to hide his crimes. And your father…” She pulled out another document. “Charles knew too. Not everything, but enough. He created the shell companies Marcus used. He hired the lawyers who drew up the NDAs.”
“So my entire family is complicit.” Vincent sat heavily. “Not just enabling. Actively participating.”
“The DA is reviewing everything. Victoria could face charges. Conspiracy, obstruction of justice, possibly accessory after the fact.” Barnes’s voice softened. “I’m sorry. I know she’s your mother.”
“She’s a monster who protected another monster.” Vincent looked at Paige. “Did you know? About the extent of her involvement?”
“No. I knew she was cold, that she’d chosen to ignore it, but this…” Paige gestured at the evidence. “This is active conspiracy.”
Barnes pulled up another file. “There’s something else. Marcus kept a journal. Digital, encrypted. He wrote in it almost daily for the past five years.” She hesitated. “Ms. Carter—Paige—parts of it are about you. Very detailed. What he planned to do. What he fantasized about. It’s… disturbing.”
“I don’t want to see it.”
“You don’t have to. But we need you to know it exists. Marcus’s lawyers might try to use it during appeal—claim it shows mental illness, diminished capacity, something to reduce his sentence.” Barnes looked at her seriously. “You should be prepared.”
“Can they do that? Can they actually reduce his sentence?”
“Unlikely. Eighty years is hard to appeal down. But they’ll try.” Barnes closed the laptop. “The good news is, this evidence strengthens the case against him. Shows premeditation, pattern, intent. If anything, it could be used to add charges.”
“More charges?” Vincent asked. “He’s already got eighty years.”
“But some of these women—the ones in the files—they never came forward. Never reported him. With this evidence, we can build cases even without victim testimony. Marcus could face additional trials in multiple jurisdictions.”
Paige felt dizzy. “This never ends, does it? Even with him in prison, we’re still dealing with this.”
“It will end,” Barnes said firmly. “But it has to be done right. Every victim deserves justice. Every crime he committed deserves to be prosecuted. That takes time.”
“Time we wanted to spend in Montana,” Vincent said. “Time we wanted to spend healing.”
“I understand. And you can still go. But periodically, you might need to come back. Testify. Give statements. Help with additional cases.” Barnes looked apologetic. “I wish I could tell you it’s completely over. But cases like this? They have long tails.”
After they left the station, Vincent drove them to the beach. Parked overlooking the ocean. Neither spoke for a long time.
“She helped him,” Vincent finally said. “My mother actively helped him hurt women. Set up the financial structures. Suggested locations. Covered it up for years.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I should have known. Should have seen it.” He laughed bitterly. “I spent my whole life thinking my father was the problem. That he was weak, that he enabled Marcus because he didn’t want to see the truth. But my mother? She saw the truth and helped him anyway.”
“What will you do?”
“Cut her off completely. She’s already not in my life, but this…” He gestured vaguely. “I’ll cooperate with the DA if they prosecute her. I’ll testify against her if needed. She deserves whatever happens.”
Paige took his hand. “We can still go to Montana. We can still leave.”
“Can we? With appeals coming, additional trials, more victim statements needed?” Vincent turned to her. “Paige, I dragged you into this family. Into this nightmare. And now even with Marcus in prison, you’re still not free of it.”
“You didn’t drag me anywhere. I chose this. Chose you. Chose to fight.” She squeezed his hand. “And yes, it’s messier than we thought. Yes, there are more layers to unravel. But Vincent, we’re married now. For better or worse. This is the worse. We’ll get through it.”
“What if Marcus is right? What if you’re always looking over your shoulder? What if even from prison, even with eighty years, he still controls your life?”
Paige thought about Marcus’s final words. The threat. The promise that she’d never be free.
“He’s partially right,” she said quietly. “I’ll probably always have moments where I look over my shoulder. Where I flinch at loud noises. Where I see his face in crowds. That’s what trauma does—it leaves marks.”
“So he wins.”
“No. He doesn’t win. Because those marks? They’re proof I survived. Proof I’m strong enough to carry them and still live.” She turned to Vincent. “Marcus wants me to be frozen in fear. To never move forward. To let that moment he choked me define the rest of my life. But I won’t. We won’t. We’ll go to Montana. We’ll build our life. And yes, sometimes we’ll have to come back to deal with his aftermath. But that doesn’t mean he controls us.”
Vincent pulled her close. “I love you. Even when I’ve destroyed your life by bringing you into mine.”
“You didn’t destroy my life. You saved it. You gave me the resources to fight back. To find my voice. To help other victims.” Paige pulled back to look at him. “Do you know what I thought about in that federal facility? In those concrete walls?”
“What?”
“That even if Marcus kills me tomorrow, it was worth it. Meeting you, falling for you, fighting beside you—it was worth whatever comes next. Because you gave me back something Marcus stole. You made me believe I deserved to be loved.”
“You do deserve it. You deserve everything.”
They sat on the beach until sunset, planning their escape. Not running. Not hiding. Just choosing to build their life somewhere peaceful while the legal system ground through the aftermath of Marcus Hartley’s crimes.
“Two weeks,” Vincent decided. “We’ll give ourselves two weeks to wrap things up. Sell the penthouse. Finalize the Montana property. Say goodbye to the people who matter.”
“Two weeks,” Paige agreed.
That night, they went to the penthouse—allowed back now that Marcus was in maximum security. It felt different. Lighter. Like the oppression had lifted.
Vincent started packing. Sorting through his life, deciding what mattered and what to leave behind.
Paige found a box of photos. Childhood pictures of Vincent and Marcus. Birthday parties. Family vacations. Two brothers who looked happy before everything went wrong.
“You can throw those away,” Vincent said, seeing what she held.
“You sure? They’re part of your history.”
“They’re lies. Carefully constructed lies to hide the rot underneath.” Vincent took the box and threw it in the trash. “I don’t want anything from that life. I’m starting over. Completely.”
But Paige rescued one photo. Young Vincent, maybe eight, laughing at something off-camera. Before the weight of family secrets. Before the guilt of complicity. Just a kid being a kid.
“For you,” she said, showing him. “To remember you weren’t always defined by Marcus’s crimes. You were a person first.”
Vincent looked at the photo for a long moment. Then carefully placed it in the box of things he was keeping. “Thank you.”
They worked through the night, packing up a life neither wanted anymore. Deciding what went to storage, what went to Montana, what got donated or trashed.
By dawn, the penthouse looked empty. Stripped. Ready for the next owner who would have no idea about the chaos that had happened within these walls.
“It’s weird,” Paige said, looking at the bare space. “This place was home for a while. Through the worst of it.”
“Home isn’t a place. It’s wherever we are together.” Vincent pulled her close. “Montana will be home. That cabin by the lake. That’ll be our fresh start.”
“No more concrete walls.”
“No more looking over shoulders.”
“No more trials or testimonies or police protection.”
“Just us. Being boring. Being normal. Being free.”
“Sounds like heaven.”
They left the next morning. Not for Montana yet—still had logistics to handle. But they left the penthouse and moved into a small rental in Silver Lake. Temporary housing while they figured out the rest.
Paige called Zoe. First time since the wedding.
“You got married and didn’t tell me?” Zoe’s voice was hurt.
“It was… complicated. We were in federal protection. It was just us and a chaplain and—”
“And you didn’t think I’d want to know?”
“Zoe, I’m sorry. Everything was happening so fast. We were being attacked, Marcus was orchestrating hits from jail, we were living in a concrete box—”
“You should have called me. Or texted. Or something.” Zoe’s voice softened. “I’m your best friend. I should have been there.”
“I know. I’m sorry. Can we see you? Can we have a proper celebration?”
They met at their favorite restaurant. Zoe brought champagne. Hugged Paige so tight she could barely breathe.
“I was so scared for you,” Zoe said. “The news—the car chase, the attacks, everything. I thought I’d lost you.”
“You almost did. Multiple times.” Paige held her friend. “But I’m here. I’m okay. I’m married to the right man for once.”
Zoe pulled back, studying Vincent. “You better be the right man. Because if you hurt her—”
“I won’t. I’d die first.” Vincent’s voice was sincere. “She’s my entire world. I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure she’s safe and happy.”
“Good answer.” Zoe raised her glass. “To Paige and Vincent. The most dramatic love story I’ve ever witnessed. May your future be incredibly boring.”
“God, I hope so,” Paige laughed.
They talked for hours. Paige filled Zoe in on everything—the evidence, Victoria’s involvement, the additional trials that might come, the plan to move to Montana.
“You’re leaving LA?” Zoe looked sad but understanding.
“We have to. Fresh start. Somewhere Marcus can’t touch us even from prison.” Paige took her hand. “But we’ll visit. And you’ll visit us. It’s not goodbye forever.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
One week to go before Montana.
Paige spent it saying goodbye to the bookstore, to Dr. Martinez, to the city that had been both her prison and her liberation.
Vincent spent it finalizing the sale of his penthouse, wrapping up the last details of leaving the Hartley empire behind.
They met with Jennifer Walsh one final time.
“The additional trials will probably happen over the next year,” Jennifer explained. “Marcus’s lawyers are fighting them, but the evidence is solid. You won’t need to testify in all of them—just the ones where you have direct knowledge.”
“How many will we need to come back for?”
“Maybe three? Four? We’ll give you plenty of notice. Fly you in, put you up, make it as easy as possible.” Jennifer smiled. “You two deserve your peace. We’ll do everything we can to minimize disruption.”
“Thank you. For everything.” Paige meant it. “You believed me when no one else did.”
“You made it easy to believe. You never wavered from your truth.” Jennifer stood, shaking both their hands. “Enjoy Montana. You’ve earned it.”
Three days before they left, an envelope arrived at the rental. No return address. Just Paige’s name.
Inside was a letter. Handwritten. From Marcus.
Vincent wanted to throw it away without reading it, but Paige stopped him.
“I need to see. Need to know what he’s still trying to do.”
She opened it with shaking hands.
Paige,
By the time you read this, you’ll think you’ve won. You’ll think eighty years means you’re safe. That I can’t reach you anymore.
You’re wrong.
I’ve spent the last month setting things in motion. Insurance policies. Dead man’s switches. Information that gets released if certain conditions aren’t met. People who owe me favors that won’t expire just because I’m locked up.
You’ll never know when. Could be tomorrow. Could be years from now. But something will happen. Someone will find you. And you’ll know it was me.
You think you’re free? You’ll never be free. Every shadow, every stranger, every moment of peace—they’re all borrowed time.
I hope Montana is nice. I hope you enjoy your little cabin and your quiet life and your happily ever after with my brother. Because that happiness? It’s temporary. And when it ends—and it will end—remember who promised you it would.
See you in your nightmares,
Marcus
Paige read it twice. Then calmly tore it into pieces.
“He’s lying,” she said. “It’s his last desperate attempt to control me. To make me afraid. But I won’t be.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Because he’s in maximum security. His accounts are frozen. His associates are arrested or cooperating with police. He’s powerless.” She threw the torn letter in the trash. “And even if he’s not—even if there really is some dead man’s switch or delayed revenge—I won’t live my life in fear of it. That’s exactly what he wants.”
Vincent pulled her close. “You’re the bravest person I know.”
“Not brave. Just tired of being scared.” She looked up at him. “Montana. Two days. Let’s go be happy and let Marcus rot in his cell plotting revenge that will never come.”
“Deal.”
But that night, alone in the darkness while Vincent slept, Paige wondered.
What if Marcus was right?
What if she really would always be looking over her shoulder?
What if happiness was just borrowed time before his final revenge?
She didn’t have answers.
All she had was the choice to live anyway.
To build a life despite the fear.
To choose hope even when darkness whispered that it was foolish.
In two days, they’d leave for Montana.
And whatever came after—Marcus’s empty threats or real danger—they’d face together.
Because that was what surviving meant.
Not the absence of fear.
But living despite it.
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