“What kind of money?”
“In my case, it was a business loan,” Laura said. “He said we would build something together. His mother said family invests in family. By the time I understood what was happening, my credit was damaged, and Daniel was telling everyone I was unstable.”
Rachel whispered, “Oh my God.”
Emily pressed the phone tighter to her ear. “Why didn’t you report it?”
“I tried,” Laura said. “But I had signed things. I looked responsible on paper. He looked charming. Susan looked like a concerned mother. And I was exhausted.” Her voice broke slightly. “I just wanted to disappear.”
Emily thought of Daniel’s message.
Remember what I know.
“Laura,” Emily said carefully, “do you know what he might want from me?”
Another pause.
“When I saw your apartment in the wedding photos,” Laura said, “I wondered if that was it.”
“My apartment?”
“Daniel always talked about wanting a place he could turn into an investment. Something he didn’t have to buy himself.” Laura hesitated. “Did he ever mention refinancing?”
Emily’s skin prickled.
Two weeks before the wedding, Daniel had brought up renovations. New floors. A second bathroom upgrade. Maybe, someday, renting the place out and buying a larger home together. Emily had laughed and said one life change at a time.
He had smiled.
Of course, babe. No rush.
No rush.
Except Susan had walked in three days after the wedding carrying rules.
“I didn’t agree to anything,” Emily said.
“Good,” Laura replied. “Keep it that way.”
The officer cleared his throat gently, signaling time. Emily asked Laura for her number and promised to call later from a safe place. Laura agreed but added one last thing before hanging up.
“There’s a storage unit,” she said.
Emily froze.
“What?”
“I don’t know if he still has it. Back then, Susan kept papers there. Documents. Old bills. Things Daniel didn’t want in his apartment. The unit was under Susan’s name, but Daniel had a key.”
“Where?”
Laura gave her the name of a storage facility on the east side of Oak Creek.
Then she said, “Emily, I don’t know what’s in there now. But if your missing drive isn’t in your apartment, it might be there.”
The call ended.
Emily sat very still.
Rachel stared at her. “This is bigger than one terrible morning.”
Emily looked around her apartment, at the furniture she had chosen, the curtains Susan had touched, the kitchen where everything had changed.
“No,” Emily said softly. “It started before that.”
By evening, Emily had changed every password she could think of. Rachel lent her an old tablet, and Priya recommended a cybersecurity technician who agreed to examine Emily’s laptop the next day. The apartment lock company confirmed Daniel’s access code had been created two weeks before the wedding.
Two weeks.
Emily remembered that day clearly. She had been at work. Daniel had texted her a photo of the new welcome mat he bought.
Making it feel like ours, he had written.
She had replied with a heart.
Now the message felt different.
Not romantic.
Preparatory.
The next morning, Priya called.
