Chapter 2: The Envelope
Aaliyah stared at Marcusâs message until the screen dimmed.
She tapped it again.
Read it.
Then read it a third time.
Please don't call me tonight. You need to know what I found.
Her thumb hovered over his name.
She wanted to call.
She wanted to scream at him.
She wanted to ask what the hell he thought he was doing.
Instead, she looked at the envelope.
Her name wasn't written on it.
Just four words.
*For when I leave.*
Aaliyah carried it to the kitchen and placed it on the counter.
She didn't open it.
Not yet.
She poured herself a glass of water, but her hand shook so badly that some spilled across the counter.
âGet a grip,â she whispered.
The apartment felt different already.
Marcusâs jacket wasn't on the chair.
His shoes weren't by the door.
The black backpack was gone.
The tiny signs of his presence had suddenly become painfully obvious because he wasn't there.
Aaliyah looked at the untouched dinner.
Hours earlier, she had complained because Marcus hadn't brought home the wine she liked.
Now the bottle sat unopened in a grocery bag.
She walked toward it.
There was another note attached.
I was going to tell you tonight.
Her chest tightened.
She picked up her phone.
She typed:
*Where are you?*
Deleted it.
Typed:
*What did you find?*
Deleted that too.
Finally, she typed:
*I'm sorry.*
She stared at the words.
Then deleted them.
She didn't know what she was apologizing for.
Or maybe she knew exactly what she was apologizing for.
The shouting.
The accusations.
The way she had turned every unanswered question into evidence that Marcus didn't care.
But there had always been one thing she believed.
Marcus would never leave.
That belief had made her careless.
Aaliyah sat down.
She opened the envelope.
Inside was a folded sheet of paper.
Her eyes immediately caught the first sentence.
*Aaliyah, if you're reading this, I probably finally did what you kept asking me to do.*
She stopped breathing.
She continued.
*I left. Not because I stopped loving you. Because I realized staying exactly the way we were was hurting both of us.*
Her eyes blurred.
She wiped them and kept reading.
*But there's something you don't know.*
Her heart began pounding.
*For the last six months, I've been investigating where our money has been going.*
Aaliyah frowned.
âWhat?ââ
She read the next paragraph.
Marcus had listed several withdrawals from their joint savings account.
Small amounts at first.
$300.
$500.
$800.
Then larger ones.
$2,000.
$4,500.
$7,000.
The total at the bottom made her stomach drop.
*$38,640.*
Aaliyah sat upright.
âThat can't be right.ââ
She grabbed her laptop.
She opened their bank account.
The balance was lower than it should have been.
Much lower.
She checked the transaction history.
Her face went pale.
The withdrawals were real.
But they weren't labeled under Marcusâs name.
They were listed as transfers to an account she didn't recognize.
An account ending in *4721*.
Aaliyah stared at the screen.
She had never seen that account.
She turned back to Marcusâs letter.
*I didn't accuse you because I wanted proof first.*
Her heart stopped.
Accuse me?
She read faster.
*I knew you would think I was blaming you. I also knew you'd ask why I didn't trust you. So I kept looking.*
Another page had been folded inside.
This one contained dates.
Bank transfers.
Phone numbers.
Names.
Aaliyah recognized one immediately.
*Denise Carter.*
Her older sister.
Aaliyah's mouth fell open.
âNo.ââ
She looked again.
Denise's name appeared beside three transfers.
$5,000.
$8,000.
$12,000.
Total:
*$25,000.*
Aaliyah pushed away from the counter.
Her sister had borrowed money from her once.
That was what Denise had said.
Just for a few weeks.
But Marcus had apparently discovered something far worse.
At the bottom of the page, he had written:
*Ask Denise what happened to Dad's house.*
Aaliyah went completely still.
Their father had died three years earlier.
His house had been sold.
Or so she believed.
Denise had handled most of the paperwork because Aaliyah had been overwhelmed by the funeral.
She remembered signing documents.
She remembered Denise saying everything was settled.
She remembered the money from the sale being divided.
Except...
Aaliyah suddenly remembered something.
She had never personally seen the final settlement statement.
She had trusted Denise.
She picked up her phone.
This time, she called.
Denise answered on the fourth ring.
âHey, what's wrong?ââ
Aaliyah swallowed.
âWhere are you?ââ
âAt home. Why?ââ
âI need to ask you something.ââ
Denise laughed nervously.
âOkay... what?ââ
Aaliyah looked at the papers on the counter.
âDid you take money from me?ââ
Silence.
âWhat?ââ
âThirty-eight thousand dollars.ââ
Denise stopped breathing on the other end.
Aaliyahâs voice shook.
âDenise, answer me.ââ
âI don't know what you're talking about.ââ
âMarcus found the transfers.ââ
Another silence.
Then Denise whispered, âMarcus?ââ
âYes.ââ
âHe went through our account?ââ
âHe found transfers to an account ending in 4721.ââ
Deniseâs breathing changed.
âAaliyah, listen to me.ââ
âWho owns that account?ââ
âIt's complicated.ââ
âNo. It's not.ââ
âAaliyahââ
âWho owns it?ââ
Denise didn't answer.
Aaliyah closed her eyes.
âDenise.ââ
Finally, her sister spoke.
âIt wasn't supposed to happen like this.ââ
Aaliyahâs blood ran cold.
âWhat wasn't?ââ
âI thought Marcus would leave you eventually.ââ
The room seemed to tilt.
Aaliyah gripped the counter.
âWhat did you just say?ââ
Denise began crying.
âAaliyah, I can explain.ââ
âExplain what?ââ
âI didn't think he'd find everything.ââ
Aaliyah stared at the wall.
âEverything?ââ
Denise whispered something.
Aaliyah almost couldn't hear it.
âWhat?ââ
âI wasn't the one who took the money.ââ
Aaliyahâs stomach dropped.
âThen who was?ââ
Denise hesitated.
May you like
And then she said a name Aaliyah never expected to hear.
âYour husband.ââ
