At least, that was what I had always believed.
“Whose account was it?” I demanded.
Emily didn’t answer immediately.
Instead, she lowered her eyes.
“That’s part of what I’ve been hiding from you.”
Anger began to rise inside me.
“Emily, you’ve been my best friend for thirty-seven years. If you know something about my husband, I deserve to hear it.”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“I know. And I’m sorry I kept this from you for so long.”
She explained that Daniel had made repeated payments to someone whose name meant absolutely nothing to me.
The transfers had continued for years.
I examined every document, desperately searching for an innocent explanation.
Then I reached the final page.
It contained an address.
My breath caught in my throat.
I recognized it immediately.
It was the address of the house where Daniel and I had lived before moving into our current home.
