“Don’t you think you’ve taken enough from her?”
Mark laughed again.
“Enough would mean I don’t need her anymore, Vanessa.”
My stomach tightened as I heard the unfamiliar name.
The woman spoke more quietly.
“She’s already sold her jewelry, Mark.”
“And she’ll sell the furniture if I ask nicely.”
I leaned against the hallway wall because my legs suddenly felt unreliable.
Only three hours earlier, I had been sitting at our kitchen table staring at six winning lottery numbers.
The ticket had cost me twenty dollars at a convenience store near my office.
I had purchased it on an ordinary Tuesday after another exhausting week of hospital visits, unpaid bills, and arguments with insurance representatives.
When the numbers matched, I checked the lottery website, took a photograph of the ticket, and checked everything again.
I even photographed the official results because I was afraid that somehow the numbers would disappear.
