Chapter 16 (1)
Abigail
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Marceline’s fork paused midair, and she looked at Conrad with an arched brow. “Well,” she said, setting her silverware down with practiced grace. “If you insist.”
But the conversation didn’t die there. Marceline switched topics easily and launched into a tale about her close friend Penelope and her heartbreak over her children’s refusal to settle down.
“Imagine,” Marceline said, her voice carrying an undercurrent of disapproval, “both the boy and the girl, as successful as they are, are nearing forty and still have no spouses. No grandchildren. It’s shameful, really. I told her just the other day how fortunate I am that my Alexander and Conrad never gave me such grief.”
I forced a smile, nodding in hopes of keeping the conversation alive. “Penelope must be worried,” 1 offered, my voice carrying the pity I knew my mother–in–law would want to hear.
“She is,” Marceline agreed with a dramatic sigh, launching into more details. She was particularly fixated on how Penelope’s daughter was so refined, but could barely keep a boyfriend, much less a fiancé.
1 carried the weight of the conversation, but I was the only one. Conrad remained withdrawn as he stabbed at his meal, barely acknowledging his mother’s words. For once, even Susanna was perfectly polite. She had not made any of her usual biting comments or even so much as a snide look in my direction.
As soon as Marceline finished her meal, she dabbed at her lips with a napkin and rose from the table. “Well, I’ll see you all tomorrow,” she said with a pointed glance at Conrad. He muttered something even I couldn’t hear, and she left without another word.
With her gone, the fragile civility at the table disappeared. Susanna’s plate was nearly untouched as she muttered something about not feeling well and excused herself. Her footsteps clicked against the tile as she left the room.
And then it was just Conrad and me.
I waited until her footsteps faded before turning to him. “What did you mean by telling your mother we’re not ready to have a child yet?”
Conrad sighed heavily, leaning back in his chair as if the question exhausted him. “Abigail, now’s not the time for a baby. There’s been too much going on.”
“Then when is the right time?” I pressed, swallowing hard “You said it so easily, like it was a decision we’d already spoken about and agreed on. What if I told you I was already pregnant? Would now still not be the right time?”
His response came too quickly, and it stung in its casual dismissal. “That’s impossible,” he said with a faint smile, waving off my question like I’d just told him a stupid joke. “Don’t tease me with things like that.”
My chest tightened, and whatever appetite I had left disappeared. I stood abruptly, my chair scraping against the floor. “I’m done,” I said, my voice cold.
“Abigail-”
I didn’t wait for him to finish. I walked out of the dining room, feeling his gaze on my back. He caught up as I reached my bedroom, his hands sliding around my waist in a way that would have made my heart flutter in any other moment but this one.
“Abigail,” he murmured, his tone low and coaxing, “don’t be like this.” His hand went lower, gripping me firmly.
Chapter 16 (1)
It was clear what he wanted.
I pulled away, turning to face him with a cold smile. “I’m not ready yet,” I said, throwing his own words back at
him.
His expression shifted, the confidence in his eyes replaced with something I couldn’t quite place. “Abigail-
“Goodnight, Conrad,” I said firmly, stepping into my room and closing the door behind me. A few seconds passed before I heard him sigh and walk away from my door.
That night, as I prepared for bed, my thoughts were more, spur than a fresh lemon. The ease with which he’d dismissed the idea of a child lingered like a bitter taste in my mouth. It wasn’t just what he said; it was how quickly he’d said it, as if the thought of us having a baby was ridiculous. I thought of the conversations we’d had in the past, back when he’d told me he wanted our child to have my simile. Were those lies?
But there was no use dwelling on it. There were bigger issues at hand–namely, the fact that he’d actually believed I was petty enough to steal Susanna’s jewelry. His words from earlier echoed in my mind: I covered for you. As if he thought I was guilty and too stupid to even pull it off properly. As if he had done me a favor by keeping the situation from escalating further.
I couldn’t live like this, with that stain on my name. I needed to prove my innocence.
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Chapter 16 (2)
Chapter 16 (2)
Abigail
The next morning, I dressed quickly and headed straight to he police station. I didn’t tell anyone where I was going; I didn’t need any interruptions. At the station, I requested to speak with the officers who had been called to the house. It took some convincing, but eventually, they aged to sit down with me. After I’d explained my desire to see the progress they had made with the case, one of the officers – Lieutenant Barnes was surprisingly cooperative after he’d heard me out.
He took a folder from the other officer and slid it across the table to me. “We’ve made some progress,” he said.” First, the jewelry didn’t have your fingerprints on it.”
1 frowned. “Just mine? What about the caregiver’s?”
“No fingerprints at all. That’s unusual, given where it was found.”
Unusual was putting it lightly. I could already feel my suspicions solidifying. The second piece of information was even more interesting.
“There’s more,” the second officer continued. “We found an unexplained transfer in the caregiver’s account Marcy, was it?”
I went through the file in my hands, searching for a printout of the transaction. “Yes, that’s her name.” “The transfer is dated the day before the complaint was made,” Lieutenant Barnes said. “We believed it’d come from you initially, but after investigating, the sender’s account isn’t linked to you or any bank you use.”
The information was more than I had been expecting. Just as I had thought, it was a setup. Someone had bought Marcy off to frame me, and I had a very good idea who it was.
“How much was it?” I asked. “The transferred amount?”
“Five thousand.”
I blinked. It must have been a tempting sum for Marcy. I finally raised my head and smiled sweetly at Lieutenant Barnes. “I’d like to have copies of these made, please.” The second officer’s eyes narrowed at me but before he could speak, I added, “For my husband of course. And my poor sister–in–law.”
Officer Barnes nodded and told me to give him a minute. I agreed easily as I handed the file back to him, although the other officer was glaring at me and doing a poor job of hiding it. When I left the station, the sun was high in the sky, but its rays might as well have been ice at that moment, Liliana must have done this, and she wouldn’t have pulled it off without Susanna’s approval or help. Maybe both.
I couldn’t let this nonsense go on any longer. I needed to confront Susanna, and I needed to do it today.
On the way home, I called Marceline. She answered on the second ring.
“Mother, I’m going to confront Susanna,” I said, my voice steady despite the fury I had been feeling ever since I’d spoken to the police. “I can’t let this continue. I won’t be known as a thief.”
Marceline’s response was immediate and supportive. “Good,” she said firmly. “She’s still at home. Do what you need to do.”
When I arrived, I found Susanna lounging on a sofa in the living room, a soap opera playing on the television. She looked up briefly when I entered, her expression bored, before returning her attention to the screen.
I didn’t waste time. I grabbed the remote and muted the TV
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Chapter 16 (21
“What’s the meaning of this?” she demanded, glaring at me.
“What’s the meaning of this?” I shot back, holding up the folder from the police, “You framed me. You used Marcy to plant your jewelry in my suitcase and made me look like a thief.”
Her eyes widened, but she recovered quickly, leaning back against the couch with a smirk. “That’s quite an accusation. Why would I do that?” she asked coolly.
“Maybe because you hate me for some reason you don’t care to share with me,” I shot back. “Or because you can’t stand the thought of anyone else but you being happy. Maybe you just can’t stand the thought of me having a place in this family. Pick one.”
Susanna crossed her arms. “Hate you? Please. I couldn’t care less about you, Abigail.”
“Then why did Marcy suddenly receive five thousand dollars from an untraceable account?” I asked, my voice rising. “It certainly didn’t come from me. Why would you even make up such a plot Susanna? To get my own jewelry?”
on intere
Her expression didn’t change. “You’re grasping at straws. That’s for the police to solve, not me.” Then, she smiled–an icy, calculated smile. “Instead of asking me such silly questions, you should be focusing important questions. Did you ever wonder why our jewelry sets were so identical?” Her tone was mocking. “The only difference is the color–yours is a darker blue, almost purple. Mine is lighter, cobalt. Do you know why?”
I held the file tightly in my hand as I waited for her to answer her own question.
When I refused to speak, Susanna shook her head as if I was a child and tucked a strand of hair behind her ears. The jewelry was mine to begin with, Abigail. I allowed it to be gifted to you because I didn’t want it anymore. So don’t stand there and accuse me of anything.”
