I backed away from the doorway, my boots feeling heavy against the floorboards.
I stepped quietly toward the front door, slipping outside onto the wooden porch before he could turn around and see me in the hallway.
The autumn air was bright and clear, but my hand shook as I reached for the black iron railing.
I stared down at the concrete steps, trying to make the numbers fit together in my head.
The savings account was supposed to be the foundation of my remaining years, the legacy Arthur had left behind when he sold the store.
How could he have moved that sum without my signature on a single document?
I gripped the cold metal, my knuckles turning white as the wind stirred the dry leaves on the lawn.
If I went back inside right now, I would have to look him in the eye.
The bright sunshine felt cold as I realized my only child had treated me like a target.
