“The police officer or the plumber?”
“The officer.”
“Yeah, of course.”
She hesitated. “Please don’t be mad. It’s not like I had him investigate Daniel or anything. I just asked if he knew anything about the Winthrop fa—.”
“What?” I interrupted her. “Cynthia. Why the hell would you do that?”
“Because, Emily, this man is almost a ghost. There’s no trace of him online. No social media. No LinkedIn. Nothing.”
“He’s private. A lot of wealthy families keep things off the grid.”
“Sure. But even reclusive people have something. A picture of a mad ex. A public fundraiser event in a local paper. Something somewhere.”
“I’ve gone to his work many times, Cynthia. I’ve met the people who work for him. I’ve seen his emails. Overheard his work calls a million times. He’s just private. You went too far. You crossed a line.”
Cynthia’s posture stayed open, but her hands fidgeted with the pen in her lap.
“I know you’re angry,” she said. “You have every right to be. But you’re not just a client. I care about you. We’ve been through too much together for me to stay silent when I feel something’s off. I did what I thought was the right thing to do.”
“I can’t believe you had your brother dig into my husband.”
“He didn’t dig,” she said quickly. “He just looked up some basic info. And there’s nothing bad about Daniel. I swear. But he did mention something I thought you might want to know.”
I was still furious, still trying to process what she’d just admitted. But I was also curious.
Daniel and I knew each other inside out. Our favorite movies, colors, books. We could practically finish each other’s sentences. He knew I hated cheesecake. I knew he couldn’t stand the feel of certain fabrics on his skin. Sure, we had our disagreements. But never screaming, never cruelty.
And yet, Cynthia was right about two things. My nightmares had started again after I met Daniel. That was a fact. And they’d spun completely out of control the week we’d moved in together. No matter how happy I was, no matter how loved I felt, I couldn’t deny the timing.
She was right about his childhood too. I didn’t really know much about his past. Just a few scattered stories, nothing deeper. I’d never met a single family member. Never overheard him on the phone with anyone outside of work or a couple of friends from college.
To be fair, he didn’t know much about my past either.
Cynthia took my silence as permission to keep going. “Did you know that Daniel grew up on an estate called the Breakers?”
“The Breakers?”
She nodded. “It’s a massive mansion on a private island off the coast of Maine. It’s where the family lived for over a hundred and fifty years. Did he ever tell you that’s where he’s from?”
I shook my head. “No.”
In fact, I could clearly remember him telling me he was born and raised in Boston.
“This is what I mean, Emily. Nobody’s accusing Daniel of anything bad. But it’s strange for someone so close to you to leave out something that big.”
“Maybe it hurts too much. Maybe that place is tied to grief. You don’t really have a life after losing your whole family.”
She paused, then nodded. “That’s fair.” Her tone had shifted. Softer. Honest. “I promise, there’s no smoking gun. But my brother did find one more thing. If you want to, I’ll share it.”
I stayed quiet. Again, she took this response as a yes.
Cynthia opened her mouth, but the next sound wasn’t her voice.
A deafening crash exploded from the hallway.
Glass shattering.
