Chapter 3: What the Envelope Knew
Inside were photographs.
Not one.
Not two.
Seven.
Printed on plain copy paper, slightly blurred at the edges, the kind of images someone pulls from a phone and sends to a drugstore printer in a hurry.
Luca and Chloe at a restaurant I recognized — the Italian place on Garfield Street where he had taken me for our eighth anniversary.
Luca and Chloe in the parking lot of my children's school.
Luca handing Chloe a set of keys I had never seen before.
And the last photograph.
Chloe at a kitchen counter I did not recognize.
A coffee mug in her hand.
Morning light through the window.
Comfortable.
Settled.
Like she lived there.
I looked up at Marcus.
"Whose apartment is that?"
He pressed his lips together.
"Luca's been renting it since March."
"March." I said the word like it belonged to another language.
"He told me we couldn't afford to fix the furnace in March."
"Jessi—"
"He made me take a second shift at work in March, Marcus.
He said we were behind on the property taxes."
Marcus looked away.
His jaw moved but nothing came out.
I looked back at the photograph of Chloe in that kitchen.
Her posture was relaxed.
Her hair was loose.
She was wearing a gray cardigan I had never seen — but the mug in her hand was white with a small blue stripe.
I owned the exact same one.
A set of four.
A wedding gift.
"Did she take things from my house?" I asked.
"I don't know."
"Did she."
"I don't know, Jessi.
I swear I didn't know any of this until last night."
I put the photographs back in the envelope.
My hands were still steady.
I noticed that about myself and found it strange.
"Why is she sending these to me?" I asked.
"What does she want?"
Marcus finally looked at me.
His eyes were red at the corners.
"She says she wants out.
She says Luca told her you two were already separated.
That you were staying together only for the kids.
That the marriage had been over for years." He paused.
"She believed him, Jessi.
I'm not defending her.
But she believed him."
I stood very still on the front step.
"She believed him," I repeated.
"She found out the truth two weeks ago.
That's when she tried to end it.
He wouldn't let her."
That word landed differently than the rest.
"Wouldn't let her."
"What does that mean?" I asked.
Marcus reached into his jacket again.
This time he pulled out his phone and turned the screen toward me.
It was a text thread between Luca and Chloe.
I read the last four messages.
*Chloe: I'm done.
I mean it this time.
Don't contact me again.*
*Luca: You're not done until I say you're done.
You know what I have.*
*Chloe: Please.
Just let me go.*
*Luca: Try it and see what happens to your father's business.*
I read that last line twice.
"What does he have on you?" I asked Marcus directly.
He sat down on my front step without being invited.
He put his face in his hands.
"Three years ago I borrowed money," he said.
"From Luca.
Off the books.
I was in trouble and he offered.
I didn't ask questions." He looked up.
"The paperwork he made me sign — Jessi, I didn't read it carefully enough.
My lawyer looked at it last night.
Luca can call the full amount due in seventy-two hours whenever he chooses.
It would wipe out everything.
The shop, the savings, everything."
The front door opened behind me.
My daughter's voice.
"Mom?
Is breakfast ready?"
I turned around and smiled at her.
"Five minutes, baby.
Go wake your brother."
She disappeared back inside.
I looked at Marcus.
He looked like a man waiting for a sentence to be handed down.
"Go home," I said quietly.
"Don't tell Wendy anything yet.
Don't call Luca.
Don't do anything."
"Jessi, what are you going to do?"
I picked up the envelope and tucked it under my arm.
"I'm going to make breakfast," I said.
"And then I'm going to make a phone call."
May you like
I went inside and closed the door.
The phone call I was thinking of was not to Luca.
