Mr. Delgado’s office smelled like old paper and coffee. He didn’t make small talk. He set a small wooden box on the desk between us and slid it toward me. Inside, sealed in a little glass locket on a silver chain, was the gummy ring I had given Marguerite in April. She had kept it all those months. Beneath it lay a folded letter in her elegant, shaky handwriting.

My darling, it began, I kept my promise. You won’t receive a single dollar from me. I gave you something better instead. Then Mr. Delgado turned his computer monitor around so I could see it. “She also asked me to show you this,” he said quietly. “Her children have already seen it. They’ve stopped calling my office.” He pressed play, and Marguerite’s face filled the screen.