“How did you know?”
I whispered.
He smiled.
“Sweetheart, you really should be more careful with your photographs.”
My stomach tightened.
That morning, after confirming the lottery numbers, I’d taken a picture of the ticket with my phone.
Our devices were connected through a family cloud account Mark had established years earlier.
I’d forgotten that every photograph I took automatically appeared on his tablet.
He had seen the ticket before I ever reached the hospital.
“Open the door, Emily,” he said.
The woman beside him glanced toward the upstairs windows.
She was tall, elegantly dressed, and approximately forty-five, with a dark bob and a camel-colored coat.
I recognized her voice before I recognized her face.
She was the woman from the hospital call.
“Who’s with you?”
I asked.
Mark’s smile disappeared.
“Someone who’s going to help us manage our good fortune.”
Our good fortune.
Those three words told me everything.
