Chapter 4
I forced myself to stay calm.
Crying wouldn't help.
Now wasn't the time to cry.
If Michael really did sell me out, I needed to figure out what really happened and then make Michael pay.
I grabbed the black notebook and settled back at my desk.
I needed more clues.
I opened Michael's laptop.
The password was my birthday.
How ironic.
The desktop was spotless, which was always Michael's style.
Every file was neatly sorted into separate folders, with work, life, and finances all kept in perfect order.
I opened each folder one by one, carefully looking through them.
Most of them were regular work files and photos from our daily lives.
In those photos, he smiled so gently, and the way he looked at me was full of love.
Once, those were the moments I cherished most.
Now, looking at them made my stomach turn.
How many masks was Michael wearing?
I spent ages digging through his laptop, but found nothing suspicious.
He was too careful.
That ledger he stashed inside a book was an example.
He must have hidden the truly crucial things deep out of sight.
I wasn't ready to give up. I started digging through the hidden files on his laptop.
Finally, deep inside a system folder, I discovered an encrypted compressed file.
The filename was a string of random, meaningless characters.
My heart started pounding.
My instincts screamed that the answer I needed was right here.
I tried every password that came to mind.
None of his birthday, my birthday, our wedding anniversary, or his mother's birthday worked.
I slumped back in my chair, feeling drained.
Was this where the clues run dry?
I wasn't ready to give up.
I stared at the notebook, trying to see if any of those names and numbers actually made sense together.
I entered each address into maps, one by one.
They were all in sketchy, old neighborhoods where crime was pretty much the norm.
I went online and started searching for the names of the women.
I couldn't find any information on most of them.
But for a few, I found news articles.
All of them were missing persons cases.
The dates matched up perfectly with the ones in the ledger.
A chill ran down my spine.
This wasn't some money scam anymore.
This was about life and death.
What kind of terrifying organization has Michael gotten himself involved with?
And I was next on their list.
That 150 thousand final payment was probably the price on my head.
If I'd opened the door that night, my name would be on that list, too.
I couldn't bear to think about it anymore.
I glanced back at the encrypted file, feeling uneasy.
What was the password?
Michael was ridiculously full of himself.
Whatever password he picked, it had to be something all about him.
And it had to be a combination he thought was foolproof, something nobody else could ever figure out.
I closed my eyes, digging through every memory I had of him.
It was not his license plate number.
I didn't know his bank card PIN
Wait, it hit me.
Back when we first started dating, he took me to his hometown.
It was a tiny, remote village.
He told me his parents left him with his grandma when he was little, and he only moved back to the city when he started middle school.
He hated that part of his life and almost never talked about it.
One time, after a few too many drinks, he let it slip.
He said his grandma used to call him Scamp.
He said it was the one thing he wished he could wipe from his life forever.
Would someone as arrogant as Michael really use the nickname he hated most as his password?
I typed in the password, Scamp.
Then, I needed to add a certain special number.
I looked at the ledger, focusing on the date written next to our home address.
It was the exact day his plane crashed.
With trembling hands, I reached for the keyboard and typed in the string of characters, Scamp0315.
0315 was the day his plane went down.
I hit enter.
The zip file unlocked instantly.
My heart raced. I was right.
I opened the folder. There was only a single video file inside.
My finger hovered over the mouse button, but I couldn't make myself click.
I had no clue what kind of punch this video was about to hit me with.
But I knew this was the closest I'd ever come to the truth.
I took a deep breath and double-clicked the video file.
The video player popped up. The video started playing.
The scene seemed to be a basement. The lighting was dim.
The camera zeroed in on a guy.
He sat in a chair, facing the mirror, carefully pressing something onto his face.
It was a lifelike skin mask.
As he tweaked it little by little, a familiar face flashed across the screen.
It was Michael's face.
But deep down, I knew the man in that chair wasn't Michael.
From the corner of the video, another voice echoed.
It was a voice I knew all too well, but right now, it made my skin crawl. "Stick it on carefully. Don't let a single flaw show.
"This time, the target is my wife. Don't screw that 150 thousand final payment up."
It was Michael, my husband, the man I'd loved for five years.
He was off-camera, showing some guy exactly how to pull off pretending to be him, to knock on our door, and to finish me off.