Chapter 26 #2
His computer was password protected. I tried using the same code I’d seen him use on his phone—his birthday—but that didn’t work. Neither did my birthday, or our upcoming wedding date. I worried that I wouldn’t be able to gain access at all, my plans thwarted by a measly four-digit code.
Closing my eyes, I tried to recall anything significant Oliver had told me in the past year, any date or figure or number he’d deem worthy of guarding his deepest secrets.
He only had one possession he loved more than anything else.
His 1953 Sunbeam Alpine roadster, sapphire blue and dripping with retro glamour.
He viewed the car as an extension of himself, his worth.
I typed in the code—1-9-5-3—and pressed enter.
The screen sprung to life.
Oliver’s email was already synced to the home screen.
Within seconds, I was scrolling through his inbox, my eyes searching for anything relevant.
A flash of guilt simmered. This man was my fiancé.
We were supposed to be building a life together, not tearing it apart in search of secrets, yet here I was, assuming the worst of him.
If this is what it took to quiet that nagging voice in my head, so be it.
One of the most recent emails in his inbox came from a real estate agency. I expected it was related to the apartments we’d been planning to tour once we made it to California. To my surprise, the agency was based in Key West, Florida, a place where, to my knowledge, neither of us had ever been.
Hi Oliver!
We’re delighted to share some amazing property listings that have just hit the market…
I read the lines over and over again in a fog of confusion.
I almost disregarded it as a piece of spam until I realized there was an email chain spanning several weeks.
This wasn’t a blanket email sent to a mass list of subscribers, but rather a personalized correspondence, the purpose of which was clear.
Oliver planned to purchase a home in Key West. A home I knew nothing about.
My brain spiraled for explanation. Perhaps these emails were related to his job. Oliver could be acting as a liaison for his employer, maybe reaching out on behalf of a client.
I typed in his company’s name, waiting for related results to appear, and—
Nothing.
Not a single message with the company name attached. No emails among co-workers, no pending Zoom calls, not even a company fucking newsletter.
From the looks of it, Oliver wasn’t associated with the company at all.
That couldn’t be possible. We’d been together for over a year.
I’d met him outside his Midtown office countless times.
Of course, I’d never visited his workplace directly, never ridden the elevator up to the twentieth floor to surprise him at his cubicle.
How easy would it be for him to pretend to work at a place he didn’t?
And the business trips. He’d attended several conventions over the years.
I never escorted him to the airport because he always insisted on driving himself, never forfeiting the chance to drive the Alpine.
When he returned, he’d gift small souvenirs from various cities, but how easy would those items be to procure?
I figured you could order anything online these days.
Maybe he was traveling to these cities, but for a different purpose. I scoured his inbox, typing in every location he’d ever mentioned visiting—Baltimore, Detroit, Chicago.
The email chain that appeared chilled me to my very core.
Oliver was in communication with a user that went by a vague nickname—Doc. Their favorite topic of conversation? Jewelry. Oliver snapped pictures of various pieces and Doc responded with a price.
A garnet bracelet.
A gold and diamond tennis necklace.
Emerald earrings shaped like spades.
I knew each piece by heart, had worn them often while exploring Marmee’s closet over the years.
Oliver was selling Marmee’s jewelry.
He’d flown to cities all over the country to meet prospective buyers. Every city he’d ever visited for a convention was conveniently tied to another sale.
How long had he been doing this? Scoping out various jewels and antiques during his visits to the estate? All the times he visited the house to oversee renovations or help administer my grandmother’s medication, was he really perusing items he could steal?
Some trips he’d taken before I’d even introduced him to Marmee. What was he doing then? I wondered. Maybe he had other goods up for sale, or maybe he was simply building a foundation for his lies, biding his time until he had access to more riches and treasures.
Hot tears flooded my eyes as I continued to read, each discovery more personal and painful than the last.
In one correspondence, he even mentioned a sapphire and diamond ring, the exact description of the band on my finger. He was attempting to sell my engagement ring.
You’ll have to pry this gem out of my cold, dead hands. That’s what I’d told the girls at my engagement party, the first night I’d ever seen Danielle. I thought of her untimely death, the syringes in the closet, and wondered if every detail had been premeditated all along.
She’d tried to warn me.
His most recent email described the next piece of jewelry he planned to sell: a diamond and sapphire bracelet, the one I’d seen Marmee wearing earlier in the week. He’d made arrangements to sell the item in Atlanta this weekend, which meant he’d have to steal the bracelet before his flight tonight.
The sadness and disbelief coursing through me hardened, transmuted into something else. Anger. Determination.
Whatever Oliver was planning to do, I wouldn’t let him go through with it.