I looked at him, completely confused.

“Grandpa… what money? I haven’t received anything.”

Her expression shifted from gentle warmth to frightened disbelief.

“Claire, I’ve been sending it to you since the day you got married. Are you telling me you never saw a single payment?”

I got a lump in my throat.

«Not just one».

Before my grandfather could answer, the door burst open.

My husband, Mark, and my mother-in-law, Vivian, came in carrying shiny shopping bags: luxury designer brands that I could never afford. 

They had gone out to “run errands,” or so they said. Their voices were loud and cheerful… until they realized we weren’t alone.

Vivian froze at first. Her suitcases slid lightly into her arms.

Mark’s smile faded from his face as his gaze shifted from me to my grandfather and then to the expression on my face.

The grandfather’s voice cut through the silence like a knife.

—Mark… Vivian… can I ask you something?

—His tone was calm, but terribly sharp—.

Where is the money I’ve been sending my granddaughter?

Mark swallowed hard.

Vivian blinked rapidly, pressing her lips together as if searching for an excuse.

The air became denser around us.

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