When my pension arrived, I placed the envelope directly into my purse.
Robert held out his hand.
“Give it to me.”
“No.”
His expression changed.
Not much.
But I noticed.
“What’s wrong?”
“I want to know where it goes this time.”
He stared at me for a long moment. Then he said something that made my stomach tighten.
“It’s not time yet.”
Not time yet?
That night, after Robert fell asleep, I opened the drawers of his desk for the first time.
Bills. Old documents. Bank papers. Nothing that explained what had happened to my pension.
Then I found a small black notebook. Inside were dates.
One entry for every month.
They were the exact dates my pension arrived.
Beside each date was an amount.
Every number matched my pension payment.
