Bruno let out a little chuckle.
“The transfer papers. My wife will think they’re for refinancing the mortgage. She signs everything without reading when I tell her it’s urgent.”
I felt the floor slip from under me. I leaned against the hallway wall, my hands wet with bleach water and my heart pounding as if it wanted to leap out of my mouth.
“What if she suspects something?” she asked.
“Suspect?” Bruno lowered his voice. “Please, Sarah. If I give her an envelope and tell her it’s for the cleaning lady, she doesn’t even ask questions. That woman lives on crumbs and gratitude.”
That’s when I heard his true tone. Not the tired husband. Not the man coming home asking for dinner. It was the tone of a master talking about a clumsy servant.
