That night, I walked in exhausted, dropped my laptop bag by the door, and saw Diane sitting at the breakfast bar in a silk robe, her red nails wrapped around one of my mugs.

She didn’t greet me.

She said, “I need another five grand by Friday.”

I laughed at first, thinking I’d misheard. “Another five grand for what?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t play dumb. I saw the bonus deposit hit your account.”

My stomach dropped. She had been going through the mail again, maybe even opening banking alerts that still printed to the shared office printer because Eric never fixed the settings.

“That money is not yours,” I said.

“It is if you expect peace in this house.”