The winning scratch-off ticket was officially verified.

I had seventy-three million dollars in my handbag, and Mark had no idea it existed.

I didn’t sleep that night.

At seven the next morning, I sat at the dining table in my mother’s small brick house on Maple Street.

Evelyn poured hot coffee into two ceramic mugs and set one on the cloth placemat in front of me.

She pulled out her chair and sat down beside me, her eyes lingering on my face.

“You didn’t sleep a single hour, Claire,” she said.