One box was marked KITCHEN.
Another said BOOKS.
Then I saw the box that made my stomach turn.
MASTER BEDROOM.
Rachel leaned over my shoulder.
“Are they actually moving in?”
I couldn’t answer.
Because it certainly looked that way.
Then Mark walked toward the side entrance.
I had installed a smart keypad there after buying the property.
He didn’t look for a hidden key.
He didn’t hesitate.
He simply entered four numbers.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
The light turned green.
The door unlocked.
Rachel stared at me.
“He has your code.”
“No.”
“What do you mean, no?”
“I never gave it to him.”
On my screen, Mark held the door open while Vanessa carried the brass lamp inside.
Then he followed her with the television.
For twenty-seven years, whenever Mark crossed a boundary, I called him first.
He always had an explanation.
He would speak calmly, confidently, and for long enough that I eventually started questioning myself.
