At the age of sixty-two, I spent the night with a man twenty-eight years younger than me. I did it because I was tired of being invisible and because, for once, I wanted to feel passion. But when I woke up alone in the hotel room the next morning, I discovered something scary...

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There was a pause.

“Where are you?”

—In the  hotel.

He ordered me to walk to an underground parking lot located two streets from the hotel and place the money inside the trunk of a gray car.

Instead of money, the police filled a bank envelope with papers and a tracking device.

They also hid a microphone under my coat neck.

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When I walked into the parking lot, my knees were about to fail me.

Marcus was standing next to the grey car.

The charming man from the night before had disappeared.

His face was cold.

Hard.

Common.

“Put the envelope in the trunk,” he ordered.

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“First give me my phone back.

You are not in a position to negotiate.

I held the envelope against my chest.

Promise me you'll destroy the photographs.

He took a step towards me.