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"It stays where it is."

"Seven years of it, Laszlo. If anyone ever went looking."

"No one goes down there." A drawer slides shut. "It all stays at the Basset house. The paperwork, the tape, everything. I moved it all there even though I should have burned it years ago. I should have done it before the wedding." A short sound, not quite a laugh. "Sometimes I go there and go through the boxes instead. A trip down memory lane…"

"And her brother's file?"

"Especially that. We want it only as leverage in case he pulls another one like he just did with Greg."

I stand there with the empty glass in my hand. His voice—I don’t like it. It gives me chills.

A file. A tape. What tape? My mind goes straight to Charles and the tape he said he had, and my stomach turns over. That was all about Julien, and because of that I rushed to him on the day of my wedding, so I could save my brother’s ass one more time. Since the body was taken care of, along with his possessions including his phone, I never gave it much thought after the incident.

Now this. What does he mean about Julien and leverage? Who is Greg? What else did Julien do? So many questions…

Laszlo had watched me for years before our wedding—he admitted as much, and I think I’ve gone past that and forgiven him. But now I want it to stop. I know he wants to protect me, but my brother’s off limits, and I’m responsible for him because I’m the elder.

Now I’m also wondering what else he’s hiding. What’s at the Basset house? Pictures of me? Notes? And what about the tape? I’m assuming it’s the one Charles had a copy of, but what if it’s not?

My heart sinks.

I have a key to the Basset house. He gave it to me after we stayed there that night when he had me like he wanted me, screaming his name on the steel table. He told me I could come when I pleased and spend time with him when he was there. How soft and caring…

"Manon?"

He's in the doorway with the cake in his hands, poppy seed spiraled through it dark as a bruise, smiling at me. Easy. Warm. My husband, not the one with something to hide.

"I came for ice," I say in an even tone. "And to warn you Daphne's about to propose to your chair."

Laughing, he kisses me on the temple on his way past with the cake. I fill the glass, carry it back to the table and sit down next to him. When it’s my turn, I cut the makowiec and taste his father's recipe. Everyone agrees it's the best thing they've ever tasted, but I cannot down more than a single bite.

Tomorrow, he has meetings until the evening.

Tomorrow, I'm going to the Basset house.

* * *

Laszlo confirms at breakfast that he has meetings until late. Kissing the top of my head, he told me not to wait up. I said I might pick up a shift. How good I've gotten at lying to my husband during our morning routine. I’m not sure I like it.

I love him. That's what makes this stupid. Nine months ago I'd have sought a reason to run, but now I'm going to see everything with my own eyes, hoping to find nothing so I can come home tonight, get into bed beside him and let it go.

I go in the back, where the work comes and goes. The place is busy with the everyday business of a mortuary, but not overwhelmingly so. It’s just a skeleton staff, from what it appears. It is easy to avoid them and stick to the unoccupied areas as I come in from the yard in the back. I’m not sure if anyone saw me but I’m doing my best to stay out of anyone’s way. If they do see me, they know I’m the boss’s wife. I can walk in and out whenever I please.

The office is empty. There's a board with keys hanging on it behind the desk, each one tagged—CHAPEL, STORE, GARAGE—and one on the bottom hook with no tag. I take it. So I’m going to a room in the back on the top floor as that seems to be the most likely one. I try the key on a few doors as I walk down. No dice. But when I stop at the one I’m thinking, the key turns.

I go in and turn on the light. There are boxes stacked all around. This whole room is filled with things that involve me. No surprise with that. But it’s overwhelming to see so much here. It points to an obsession that maybe I never deeply considered.

The boxes are marked by year, in the same hand that leaves me sweet notes on my to-go coffee cups. I open one. Reports: where I went, when, who with, what I bought. Photographs—so many of them! Me drained after a night shift. Me and Charles walking down the street. There are photos of me sleeping—what the fuck! Then the badge I’d once lost, which takes me aback.

I keep looking through various boxes. More of the same. My heart races as I keep going, looking at my life in images, on paper, and remember things I’ve forgotten over the years. No stone has been left unturned.

My attention is drawn to a smaller box sitting on the desk. I open it to find a hard drive, a USB, and a file tabbed with Julien's name. I put my hand on that file and rest it there. With Julien, we’ve never been close as we took different paths in life. That doesn’t mean I don’t care. Hell, I married a fucking stranger to keep my idiot brother alive. I’m just sick of being manipulated by these men in my life—my father, my brother, my husband. I’m either fixing their messes or being pushed into their fantasy of how I should be. They can all go to hell.

I don’t open the file yet because in this moment I don’t want to see how rotten my baby brother truly is. I just want to be angry at Laszlo.

I keep going. More of the same. And oh my God, he’s put some of my pictures in scrapbooks, like he’s a parent keeping track of his kid’s progress. I can’t believe it. As I’m closing what I think is the last box, I spot one tucked way in the back between two cabinets. It’s not tagged and looks older, like something forgotten. I pick it up and place it on the desk near the one with Julien’s file. It has a lid like an oversized shoe box.

When I open it, I find only a few sheets of paper I can't make sense of, and a photograph.