“So Nathan rented her an apartment?”
“Yes.”
“With my money?”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“Then what was it like?”
Margaret didn’t answer.
I looked at Nathan.
“How much?”
He frowned.
“What?”
“How much have you spent?”
“Sofia—”
“How much?”
He lowered his voice.
“About thirty thousand.”
My mouth went dry.
“Thirty thousand dollars?”
He nodded.
I stepped backward.
Thirty thousand.
My money.
Our money.
Gone.
And suddenly I remembered something.
A conversation from six months earlier.
Nathan had asked me to postpone replacing my car.
He’d said we needed to save.
I had believed him.
I had driven my aging car another six months.
I had skipped vacations.
I had stopped buying things for myself.
And he had spent thirty thousand dollars on a secret apartment and whatever else was hidden behind it.
I looked at Rachel.
“Why did he say he was paying for it?”
She hesitated.
