“She used her mother’s inheritance.”

I stared at her. Helen’s mother had left her an inheritance years ago, and Helen always told me she’d donated most of it to medical charities after beating cancer the first time.

I had admired her for that. I had proudly told friends at dinner parties that my wife understood gratitude better than anyone.

Carol’s expression softened in a way that somehow made me resent her kindness. “She wanted to tell you. She was afraid.”

“Afraid of what?”

Carol reached to the side table and picked up a thick manila envelope, its corners worn, sealed with a red string clasp. Helen’s handwriting crossed the front.