I downed my third glass of wine, letting the burn distract me as I sat there, waiting for Richard to get home.My first instinct when he walked through the door was to let it all out—yell, accuse, demand answers. But I held back. I told myself I’d stay calm, rational. So I waited. Waited until after dinner to bring it up.He was still working through his steak, having already cleaned off the pasta, and I stayed quiet, watching his fork scrape the last bite off the plate. Only when his dish was completely bare and he leaned back with a satisfied sigh did I finally speak.“That was good,” he said, wiping his mouth before draining his glass of water.I looked at him for a beat, then cleared my throat. “I called the school’s treasurer yesterday. Wanted to check on how things were going with Astor.”His eyes flicked to me. “And?”“He said we’re surviving. Barely.” I paused. “Haven’t you been investing?”“I have.”“Little by little, I was told.”“Just enough.”My fingers curled into fists.
Huling Na-update : 2025-07-30
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