**EMMA COLLINS.**
My stomach dropped.
“What is that?”
Grace looked up.
She didn’t look embarrassed.
She looked pleased.
Harold stepped past me and grabbed one page.
His expression changed.
“Mom.”
I reached for another.
It was a bank statement.
Not ours.
Mine.
An old account I had opened before Harold and I married.
“What the hell?”
My hands began shaking.
“How did you get this?”
Grace pointed toward the filing cabinet.
“Important documents shouldn’t be left unlocked.”
I stared at her.
Then understood.
She had gone through our files after we fell asleep.
Harold looked furious.
“You searched our financial records?”
“I found something you need to know.”
“You had no right!”
“I’m protecting you.”
“From what?”
Grace pointed at me.
“From your wife.”
The room became completely still.
Harold looked at me.
I looked at the statement.
It was nearly three years old.
One deposit had been circled in red.
**$38,000.**
Harold frowned.
“What is this?”
Grace answered before I could.
“Exactly.”
I stared at the number.
Then remembered.
“Oh.”
Harold turned toward me.
“You know what it is?”
“Yes.”
Grace smiled.
“Of course she does.”
I ignored her.
“My grandmother gave me that money.”
“Your grandmother?”
“When she sold her house. She gave money to my sister and me. I told you.”
Harold thought for a moment.
Then nodded.
“You did.”
Grace’s smile weakened.
Then Harold looked back at the amount.
“Wait.”
He frowned.
