That night, when Robert arrived at her apartment, Mary was sitting on the sofa with the album in her hands. He walked in with a smile, as if nothing were wrong. He was carrying a bag with Chinese food and a bottle of wine.
«Honey, look what I bought. Your favourite.» He put the bag on the table and took off his jacket. «How was the meeting with my mum?»
Mary looked up. «Why did you not tell me you were married?»
Robert froze. The silence became thick. Then he lowered his gaze and ran his hand over his face. He sat down across from her.
«What did my mum tell you?»
«I saw the photos.»
«Ah.»
«Did you marry that woman?»
«It was complicated.»
«And why did you not tell me?»
«Because it does not matter.»
«It does not matter?»
«Mary, listen to me. It was a mistake. Something that happened very quickly. It lasted less than six months. She was unstable.»
«Did you meet her at a bank too?»
Robert did not answer.
«Did you ask her to sell her house too?»
His gaze changed. For the first time, he seemed annoyed. «What are you talking about?»
«I saw a folder at your mother’s house. A list of women with properties. All single. What is that?»
«You have no right to meddle in our business.»
«In our business? Is that what you call preparing a wedding?»
«Lower your tone.»
«Answer me, Robert.»
«I have nothing to explain.»
He got up and took his jacket. He looked at Mary with an expression she had never seen: cold, distant.
«Not everyone has a clean past, Mary. But you are not perfect either. Or are you?»
«I am not talking about perfection. I am talking about lies.»
«Then keep your doubts. I do not have to justify myself.»
He left the apartment, slamming the door. Mary was left alone, with the photos on the table and a hollow feeling in her stomach that was not hunger. Her world was falling apart, and she no longer knew which part to pick up first.
She could not sleep that night. Not because she missed Robert, but because, deep down, she felt that the nightmare was just beginning. And her grandmother’s dream, far from being an exaggerated warning, was starting to look too much like a fulfilled prophecy.
Mary spent the whole night awake; her eyes were fixed on the ceiling, her breathing shallow, and her mind spinning in circles without rest. The images assaulted her like lightning flashes: the blonde woman leaving through the back of the house, the folder with names and properties, the photo album with a previous wedding, Robert’s cold reaction.
She did not know if she felt rage, fear, or shame. Maybe everything at the same time. The dawn arrived relentlessly.
She got up without energy, made herself a coffee, and let it cool without tasting it. She was still wearing the same pyjamas she wore the night before. Her cell phone vibrated on the table.
It was Margaret, her best friend since college, the only person with whom she could be completely honest without feeling like she had to justify every emotion.
«Are you okay?» Margaret asked when she answered.
Mary took a second to respond. «No.»
«Do you want me to come over?»
«Yes.»
Thirty minutes later, Margaret was sitting in her living room with a notebook in her hands, as if they were improvised detectives. Her hair was pulled back in a tight braid, and she had the expression of someone ready to unearth secrets, no matter the cost.
«Tell me everything from the beginning,» Margaret asked firmly.
Mary did. From the first day she met Robert at the bank branch to her grandmother’s dream, the folder, the photo with the blonde woman, and the final argument. Margaret did not interrupt, just nodded silently, taking mental notes.
When Mary finished, Margaret exhaled loudly. «We have to find out who that woman is.»
«How?»
«Social media. He has an Instagram account, right?»
«Yes, but he does not post much, almost nothing personal.»
«Then we will check the comments, the followers, who he follows. Social media says more than one thinks.»
They turned on the laptop. Margaret typed nimbly while Mary dictated the names she remembered, the profiles she had seen in the album. They searched for Robert first.
His account was private, but the list of people he followed was public. Margaret began to check them one by one.
«There are many women,» she said. «Some have normal usernames, others use strange pseudonyms. Let us check the ones that have photos similar to the blonde you saw.»
Mary leaned closer and observed each profile. Many were locked. Others were very active, but with superficial content. Just as they were about to close the laptop, Margaret stopped.
«Wait, this one.»
The profile said Larissa Morena. It was a modest account with few posts. But in one of the photos, taken just over a year ago, Robert appeared, hugging the same woman she had seen in the album: same face, same hair, same red dress.
Mary felt a hollow in her stomach. «It is her.»
Margaret opened the photo. The caption said: «He makes me feel secure. Thank you for appearing in my life.»
«This is from last year,» Margaret confirmed. «How long have you been with Robert?»
«Eleven months.»
«Then they overlapped.»
Mary felt a shiver run down her arms. «What do we do? What should I write to her?»
«From my account, you cannot appear. Not yet.»
Margaret wrote a brief but empathetic message: «Hello, Larissa. I am sorry to write to you out of the blue. I have a delicate situation involving Robert Miller. I would like to talk to you, please. It is not a joke.»
They sent it. Hours passed. Mary could not concentrate on anything. Margaret stayed with her all day.
At five o’clock in the afternoon, the response arrived: «Who are you? What do you know about Robert?»
Margaret showed her the message. Mary felt her heart pounding like a drum.
«I just need to know if you were with him last year. Some things do not add up. Please, I need to talk to you. It is important.»
Twenty minutes passed before Larissa sent another message: «Yes, I was with him. I married him. Who are you?»
Mary took Margaret’s phone and typed with trembling fingers: «I am Mary Adams. I am his fiancée.»
The answer did not take long. «Oh my God,» another message followed. «We need to talk, but not here. Can we meet? I have something to show you.»
Margaret and Mary agreed to meet the next day at a downtown coffee shop in New York City. The place was open, with large windows, and there were always people. It seemed safe.
Mary barely slept that night. But this time it was not out of fear. It was out of the desperate desire to know, to understand, to confirm what she already feared.
The next day, Mary arrived ten minutes early. Margaret accompanied her but stayed at another table to observe from afar. Larissa arrived on time.
She was thinner than she looked in the photos. Her face was tired, with dark circles, and her hair was pulled back in a casual bun.
«You are Mary,» she said without greeting her. Mary nodded. Both sat down.
«Tell me everything,» Larissa said with a rough voice. «How long have you been with him?»
«Almost a year. I told my friend everything. We started searching social media. You appeared.»
Larissa lowered her gaze. She took a folder from her purse and put it on the table.
«It is all here. Copies of the documents for the house I sold. Messages from him. The police report. Although it did not help at all.»
Mary opened the folder. The papers were organised: Public deed of sale. Bank deposit in Robert Miller’s name.
A printed WhatsApp message where he promised her: «In six months I am going to give you the house you deserve.»
«What happened after you sold?» Mary asked.
«He disappeared. He took all the money. Changed his number. Blocked me. I went to his house and his mother told me he was travelling. That she knew nothing.»
«Did you not file a police report?»
«Of course. But there was no way. Legally it was not theft. I sold of my own free will. He did not force me. I did not leave proof that the money was for him. I did not sign anything.»
Mary felt a knot in her throat. «And how did you meet him?»
«At the bank. I went to do some paperwork. He helped me with some documents. He seemed kind. From there we started dating.»
«He told me I was different. That he finally found a mature, strong, confident woman. And I believed him.»
«And you never suspected anything?»
«Yes, but I confused it with normal things. That he did not talk about his job. That he did not introduce me to all his friends. That he was always so careful with his cell phone.»
«But I thought he had emotional baggage. I felt sorry for him.»
Mary took a deep breath. «I swear I did not know anything.»
Larissa nodded. Her face softened. «It is not your fault either. He is a professional. He does not improvise. He has everything calculated.»
«Do you know if he has done it before?»
«I do not have proof. But the mother knows everything. She covers for him.»
«And is there another woman?»
«Yes, Jane. I heard her name. Robert mentioned her by mistake once, thinking I was asleep. Do you know anything about her?»
«Only that she disappeared. No one knows where she is. They think she moved to another country. Or that something worse happened to her.»
Mary felt her stomach clench. «Do you think…»
«I do not know. But if I had not had my sister nearby, maybe I would have ended up the same way. I got depressed. I shut myself in. I lost my friends. I did not trust anyone.»
«And now?»
«I work part-time. I am recovering. But I do not have anything of my own. Everything went with him.»
Mary remained silent. She looked at the papers, the names, the dates. Everything fit.
«Can I keep this?»
«Do it. And if you can… report him. Even if it does not send him to jail, at least he will not do the same thing again.»
They said goodbye without hugs. Larissa walked toward the street as if carrying a thousand pounds on her back. Mary was left alone at the table, looking at the papers.
Margaret approached, her face distraught. «Did you hear her?»
«Yes,» Mary replied. «And she is not the only one.»
That night, while reviewing the documents in her apartment, her cell phone vibrated. Unknown number. Mary answered.
«Hello?»
A woman’s voice, low, almost whispering. «Are you Mary Adams?»
«Who is speaking?»
«I cannot say my name. But listen to me carefully. Do not marry Robert. He is not who he says he is.»
Mary was speechless. «Who are you?»
«Just someone who knew him. He ran away with everything I owned. Do not let the same thing happen to you, please.»
And she hung up. Mary stood up alone, the phone still at her ear as it began to rain outside. The rain was not heavy, but it had that persistent sound that seemed to drag dark thoughts, memories one would prefer to bury.