He looked up from his steak. His face was perfectly still.
Ezoic
“What account?”
“The one at First Capital. The operating account.”
“Claire, I don’t even know the login to that thing. Why would I?”
“There’s almost two hundred thousand dollars missing.”
He put down his fork. He reached across the table and took my hand.
“Honey, that’s terrible. Have you called the bank? It could be fraud. Somebody could have hacked you. Those things happen all the time now.”
Ezoic
He looked so worried. So concerned. So completely, perfectly sincere.
I called the bank. They opened a fraud investigation. It went nowhere. Whoever had made the withdrawals had used my login, my security questions, my own credentials. As far as the bank could tell, it had been me.
That was when I installed the camera.
It was a tiny thing, the size of a thumbnail, hidden in a bookshelf in my office between a dictionary and a framed photo of my parents. I told no one. Not Richard. Not my friends. Not my sister.
