All Chapters of IF YOU LOVE ME, DIE FOR ME: Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

POV: MadelineThe morning after the wedding, the lake was doing something different.Not better or worse than the afternoon before. Just different, the particular quality of early light on water before anyone else is awake to look at it, private in the way of things that occur whether or not there is a witness.I was the witness.I had woken at five without an alarm, the way I had always woken when something was sitting with me, and I had dressed quietly without waking Jeremy and come down to the garden that ran to the water's edge and sat on the stone wall at the end of it with my feet hanging over the lake and the mountains doing whatever the mountains did in the early morning, which turned out to be something considerably more understated and more beautiful than what they did in the afternoon.I sat there for a long time.I thought about a year. Not this year specifically, the one ending at a lake in Italy with a ring on my hand and a man sleeping upstairs, though that year too. I

POV: MadelineWe opened the Dublin office on a Wednesday with a desk, two chairs, a laptop, and Sol, who had arrived the previous evening and had already introduced himself to the building's facilities manager, identified the best coffee within three minutes walk, and started a case file on Roisin Callahan before I landed.I landed on Wednesday afternoon, Jeremy on the same flight, both of us carrying the specific alertness of people who had been on a honeymoon that had ended earlier than planned and had made the decision without regret."How is the building?" I said when Sol met us at the office door."Adequate," he said. "There is a problem with the heating on the third floor, but we are on the second floor, so it is not our problem.""The Callahan case," I said."Conference room," he said, which was a generous description of the room with the table and the two chairs, and led us inside.The file he had built in forty-eight hours was, as always, more than I expected and exactly what

POV: MadelineGerald Marsh made his first move on a Friday.We were three days into the Callahan case, Sol working through the Aldbrook account structures with the focused obsession he brought to everything that mattered, Bea managing the regulator correspondence from Havenport, Jeremy on calls with contacts in the Irish legal community who could tell him which firms Marsh was likely to retain when things started moving in his direction.I was at the Dublin office desk at six in the morning, which was earlier than was strictly necessary and later than I had actually woken up, when the message arrived.Not on my phone.On the Crawford general inquiry address, the one on the website, the one that Bea monitored for intake queries and potential cases.The message had no name attached. The sender address was a string of random characters routed through three anonymizing servers, which Sol identified in four minutes and which told us less about who sent it than about how much effort they ha

POV: Roisin CallahanI had been trying to remember for eight months.Not the transactions; I remembered those with the particular clarity of things that had been examined so many times they had ceased to feel like memories and had instead become a sequence of facts I could recite in the correct order without engaging with their content.I was trying to remember the things around the transactions. The context. The period of fourteen months during which someone was using my credentials on seventeen separate occasions, routing money through accounts I managed, building a paper trail that ended with my name on it.What I was trying to remember was whether there had been moments I had noticed something and had not known what I was noticing.I thought there had been.I told Madeline and Sol about one of them on the Monday after I came into the Dublin office, sitting across the table with a coffee that had gone cold because I kept forgetting to drink it when I was trying to remember things p

POV: MadelineDara called at seven in the evening.I was at the Crawford table with Sol, going through the sixty-three screenshots Roisin had given us, building them into a chronological account of fourteen months of unauthorized access that was, with every hour we spent on it, becoming the most thoroughly documented case we had assembled since Iris Tan.Dara's voice when she spoke had the particular quality it got when she had found something significant and was choosing her words carefully because the significance required precision."The Reinholt contact," she said. "Her name is Agnieszka. She has been with the firm for two years and has been uncomfortable for six months and has been waiting for a reason to do something about the discomfort.""We gave her the reason," I said."You gave her the reason," Dara said. "The Calloway story. She read it eighteen months ago. She knew what Crawford was before I introduced myself, which made the conversation considerably shorter than it might