No money.
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No key to Richard’s enormous mansion.
Inside was a folded letter, an old photograph of the two of us, and a small brass key.
Rebecca smiled mockingly.
“See? I told you.”
I ignored her and opened the letter.
The very first sentence made me hold my breath.
“Anna, I knew why you married me.”
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I stopped reading.
Richard knew.
For several seconds, I simply stared at those words.
I wanted to close the letter, put it back, and pretend that nothing had happened.
But I kept reading.
In the letter, he wrote that from the very beginning, he understood that the desire for security was one of the reasons I had agreed to become his wife.
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He was seventy-three years old.
He wasn’t a foolish man.
He completely understood the age difference between us and saw how afraid I was of being left without money and stability again.
