Chapter 1

My wife, Linda Bennett, was sitting on the couch while her younger brother, Howard Bennett, stood by the window.

The second they saw me, they both froze.

Linda recovered first. Her expression was stiff for a second before she rose to her feet and smiled at me.

"Mark, you're home early."

I set the bag of fruit on the entryway table. "Yeah, I wrapped up work sooner than expected."

Howard put down his mug and gave me a nod. "Hey, Mark."

His tone was perfectly normal, as though nothing had happened before I walked through the door.

I changed my shoes, giving no indication that I'd noticed anything.

But in my head, I was replaying every word I'd overheard just before coming in.

I took off my coat and hung it by the door. "How are you feeling these days, Howard? Getting better?"

Howard hesitated. His eyes flicked instinctively toward Linda.

Linda answered for him without missing a beat. "Much better. The doctor said he just needs to take it easy for a little while longer, and he'll be fine."

I nodded and walked over to the coffee table. Picking up the mug Howard had just set down, I glanced at what was inside.

"What are you drinking?"

"Nothing special," Linda said. "Just coffee."

I set the mug back down and looked at Howard. "Your treatment must've cost a lot."

Howard's expression shifted. Linda quickly jumped in. "It doesn't matter what it cost. When someone's sick, you do whatever it takes."

I ignored her and kept my eyes trained on Howard. "I'm asking you. How much did it cost?"

Howard swallowed, but no answer came.

Linda reached for my arm. "Mark, what's gotten into you? Howard's only just started feeling better."

I pulled my arm away. "I heard you two talking before I came in."

Linda's hand froze in midair, and she went completely still.

The living room fell so quiet that the ticking of the clock on the wall suddenly seemed deafening.

Howard was the first to speak, his voice coming out strained. "Mark, just let me explain."

"Explain what?" I turned to him. "That you weren't faking being ill? Or that the money didn't come out of our account?"

Howard opened his mouth, but not a single word came out.

I gave a slow nod, then turned to Linda. "Then you tell me."

Linda stared at me, her eyes gradually reddening.

But she didn't cry. She didn't explain either.

After a long silence, Linda lifted her chin slightly. "Fine. Yes. I used the money to buy Howard a house."

The caution in her voice was gone. Now that the truth was out, she seemed almost defiant, as if she had nothing left to hide.

"And yes, I told him to fake being sick. If I'd come right out and told you I wanted to use the money to buy him a house, you would never have agreed."

I stared at her, wondering if I'd somehow heard her wrong.

We'd been married for six years.

For six years, I'd gone to bed every night believing I'd married a good woman.

Linda was frugal and sensible. She never splurged on clothes or wasted money on things we didn't need.

I'd always thought we were making sacrifices together, building a life together.

As it turned out, she'd been making those sacrifices right alongside me, only to hand everything we'd saved over to her brother.

I took a deep breath, forcing myself to keep my voice steady. "So the 300 thousand dollars in our account, every cent we had, you gave it all to him?"

Linda didn't deny it. "He's my brother. If I don't help him, who will?"

"By having him fake an illness? By lying to me? That's your idea of helping him?"

Her expression hardened. "What else was I supposed to do? If I'd told you the truth, would you have given me the money? You know exactly how you treat Howard.

"Every time he comes to us for help, you come up with some excuse to say no. He's my brother, Mark. I can't just turn my back on him."

I held her gaze. "So your solution was to make a fool out of your husband?"