“He helps out?”
Darius flinched.
“Well, sometimes I slip her some cash, bring her groceries.”
Kiana nodded.
Interesting.
She thought that about five hundred dollars a month at most went to her mother‑in‑law from their family budget.
Apparently, Darius was helping her with his own personal money, which, judging by his constant debts to Kiana, he didn’t have.
“I’ve been thinking,” Ms. Sterling continued, examining her nails.
“Maybe I should sell my condo. My one‑bedroom downtown must be worth a lot. I could sell it, buy something smaller on the outskirts, and live on the difference.”
Kiana sipped her tea.
It was hot, scalding her lips.
“Not a bad idea.”
Her mother‑in‑law looked up sharply.
“Do you really think so?”
“Of course. If you need money, that’s the logical option.”
Ms. Sterling went quiet, clearly expecting something else.
Then she smiled, but the smile was crooked.
“Yes, I guess so… for now. Maybe I don’t have to sell it. Maybe there’s another way.”
She stopped talking, staring at Kiana expectantly.
Darius was watching, too.
Both of them were waiting for the daughter‑in‑law to offer to help—to say, “Don’t sell it. Here is some money. Live in peace.”
Kiana finished her tea and stood up.
“I’m going to change clothes. Long day.”
She left the kitchen, feeling their two gazes on her back, one bewildered and one angry.
In the bedroom, she closed the door and sat on the edge of the bed.
Her hands were slightly trembling, not from fear, but from cold, quiet, grinding rage.
They wanted her money.
It was obvious.
Ms. Sterling hadn’t come for tea.
She had come to scope out the situation, to see if her daughter‑in‑law would succumb to pity.
And Darius was in on it, sitting right there, silent, waiting.
Kiana listened closely.
Voices started up again in the kitchen, quieter now, muffled.
She got up, went to the door, and cracked it open a sliver.
The words reached her in fragments.
“She won’t give,” Ms. Sterling hissed. “She’s greedy.”
“Mom, don’t say that. She’s just cautious,” Darius muttered.
“Cautious.”
She snorted.
“She has a hundred thousand just sitting there, and I’m rotting away on Social Security.”
“Quiet. She’ll hear.”
“Let her hear. I raised you by myself your whole life. Your father left when you were three. I worked two jobs, and now you marry this cold piece of work and you can’t even help me properly.”
Darius mumbled something unintelligible.
“We have to act,” Ms. Sterling hissed. “Do you understand? Otherwise, we won’t get anything. She’s not stupid. Look how she twisted things. ‘Sell your condo,’ she says. Easy for her to say. She has everything.”
“So what are you suggesting?”
A pause.
Kiana held her breath.
“I was thinking maybe you can get the PIN for her card,” Ms. Sterling said. “You have access to her purse, right? Check it. The card is in there. Then I’ll withdraw the money quickly tonight before she even notices. And in the morning, we’ll say the card was stolen on the bus or at the grocery store, for example.”
Silence so thick that Kiana could hear her own heart beating.
“Are you serious?” Darius’s voice was tense, but not indignant—more like intrigued.
“Absolutely. Listen, she won’t even notice right away. It’s not like she keeps tabs on it. She’s got over a hundred and twenty thousand. What’s the big deal if we take some? We’ll split it later. Half for you, half for me. That’s fair, right?”
Another pause.
“I don’t know, Mom. That’s risky.”
“Risky? What risk? She won’t even figure it out. And if she does, so what? You’ll say you didn’t know anything. A hacker compromised the account. That happens all the time.”
“What if she calls the bank?”
“So what? The bank will shrug. Security failure. But the card was on her. No one but her knew the PIN. She’ll blame herself for not being careful. Trust me, it’ll be fine.”
Kiana slowly closed the door.
Everything inside had frozen solid.
She wasn’t surprised.
For some reason, she wasn’t surprised at all.
She knew Ms. Sterling was capable of a lot, but for Darius to support it—that was a punch.
Not a hard one, but precise.
She returned to the bed, sat down, and folded her hands in her lap.
She needed to think, weigh her options, decide what to do next.
But the decision had essentially been made already.
That morning, when she walked out of the bank, Kiana had smiled faintly, barely noticeably.
Let them try, she had thought.
About ten minutes later, she left the bedroom.
No one was in the kitchen.
Ms. Sterling was in the entryway putting on her jacket.
Darius was helping her zip it up.
“You’re leaving already, Ms. Sterling?” Kiana asked, leaning against the doorway.
Her mother‑in‑law turned around.
Her face was tight, unwelcoming.
“Yes, I have things to do. Thanks for the tea.”
“Thank you for the cream puffs,” Kiana replied politely.
Ms. Sterling nodded, adjusted her jacket, and headed for the door.
Right at the exit, she turned around.
“Kiki, think about what I said. Family is important. We have to help each other.”
Kiana looked her straight in the eye.
“Of course. I’ll be sure to think about it.”
The door closed.
Darius went back to the living room, turned on the TV, and sat on the couch.
Kiana followed him, picked up the dirty mugs from the coffee table, and carried them to the sink.
“Listen,” Darius started without turning his head, “Mom is really in a difficult spot. Maybe we should help her out after all. Just a little, like five thousand.”
Kiana washed the mug and placed it on the drying rack.
“Why does she need five thousand?”
He shrugged.
“To live on. To have some peace of mind.”
“Darius, your mother has Social Security and she has her condo. If she truly needs money, she can sell her condo like she said herself, or find a part‑time job.”
“At her age?”
Kiana turned around, wiping her hands on a towel.
“She’s sixty‑two. Plenty of women her age are working.”
Darius frowned.
“You’ve gotten so cold.”
“Not cold. Realistic.”
He didn’t answer.
They spent the rest of the evening in strained silence.
Kiana read a book.
Darius watched some reality show on TV, laughing a little too loudly at nothing.
Before bed, he went into the bathroom, splashed around for a while, then came out, lay down, and buried his face in his phone.
Kiana closed her book and lay down next to him.
The darkness was thick.
The wind rustled outside the window.
She heard Darius fidgeting under the blanket, typing something on his phone.
He was probably texting his mother, planning.
Kiana turned onto her side, facing the wall.
Inside, she was surprisingly calm, almost indifferent.
Five years of marriage, it turned out, could be wiped out by one conversation in the kitchen, one decision to steal a wife’s money, and a conspiracy with his mother.
She remembered how they met.
A typical story: mutual friends, a party, talking until morning.
Darius seemed interesting then, vibrant.
He joked, told stories, and knew how to listen.
Then came the flowers, the walks, the first kiss in the rain on a downtown corner.
Romance.
The wedding was modest.
Kiana insisted on it.
She didn’t want the grandeur, the guests, the debt from the banquet.
Darius easily agreed, saying the main thing was being together, not putting on a show.
Good words.
Too bad they were empty.
The next day, Kiana got up early.
Darius was still sleeping, taking up the whole bed.
She dressed quietly, took her purse, and left the apartment.
It was cool outside, smelling of wet leaves and someone’s chimney smoke from the older houses a few blocks away.
Kiana walked slowly, thinking over her plan.
The card with the three dollars was in her wallet.
