“No, I’m your wife. And that is our money.”
He stood up so abruptly that his chair scraped across the floor.
“Everything has to be about control with you. You think because you wear a uniform and have a government job, you can interrogate everyone in your life.”
I looked at him, struggling to reconcile the man standing before me with the person I had married.
“I think a husband should be able to explain where eighty thousand dollars went.”
He left the house that night.
Two days later, Arthur called me.
He did not ask how I was feeling. He did not apologize. He informed me that the family had decided the investment company would reimburse our savings when its next property sale closed.
“Until then,” he said, “you will stop asking questions.”
I told him that was not a decision he could make for me.
He laughed.
“Alexandra, let me explain something. You may be impressive in your little military world, but you are dealing with people who understand how money actually works.”
