His birthday.
Nothing.
Our anniversary.
Nothing.
His mother’s birthday.
The lock clicked.
I froze.
The safe opened.
Inside were several envelopes.
A passport.
A small black notebook.
And a stack of bank statements.
I picked up the first statement.
The account was in Nathan’s name.
I read the balance.
Then I sat down.
There was more money in that account than I had in my personal savings.
A lot more.
I opened another statement.
Then another.
Money had been accumulating there for years.
My money.
Household money.
Money I thought was being used to keep our family afloat.
I turned another page.
Then I saw something that made my hands go numb.
There were monthly payments coming out of Nathan’s account.
The recipient was a company.
A property management company.
I recognized the address listed beneath it.
My stomach dropped.
I knew that address.
It belonged to an apartment building downtown.
