After forty-three years of marriage, I thought I knew everything about my husband, Tom.
We built a simple life together — he worked as a school janitor, and I sold clothes at the department store. Our home wasn’t grand, but it was filled with laughter, memories, and the quiet pride that comes from honest work. So when I found a bank receipt showing an $80,000 transfer from Tom’s account to a charity I’d never heard of, my heart nearly stopped.