“Did you bring the money?”
Her question hurt even more than the sight of another woman holding my husband.
I stared at Daniel, struggling to understand how the man standing before me could be the same man I had believed was dying.
“You were dying.”
He let out an impatient breath, as though I were the one creating an unnecessary problem.
“Maya, don’t be dramatic.”
Vanessa crossed her arms.
“He was under stress. The doctors recommended rest.”
I looked from her to Daniel.
“For four hundred and eighty thousand dollars?”
Elaine placed her coffee aside and rose from the chair.
“The money is for his recovery and his new business. A wife supports her husband.”
There was no apology in her voice.
No shame.
