“Besides, the fool doesn’t even know that the ‘cleaning lady’ has already seen the paperwork…”
The woman on the other end of the line giggled, a high-pitched, grating sound that vibrated through the cheap wood of the bathroom door. “Are you sure she hasn’t suspected anything, Bruno? Three months is a long time to play this game.”
“Suspected? Her?” Bruno let out that arrogant, booming laugh I had grown to detest. “Please. She’s too busy scrubbing my toilet to notice anything. She thinks she’s being clever by keeping the cash. She actually believes she’s pulling one over on me by doing the chores herself and hoarding the envelopes. I’ve seen the shoebox, Chloe. I let her keep it. It’s a cheap price to pay to keep her distracted while we finalize the transfer.”
Chloe. The name was a venomous snake sliding into my consciousness. Chloe. His twenty-four-year-old marketing assistant. The one he claimed was “just a kid trying to learn the ropes” when he brought her over for dinner six months ago.
