Every single time Sarah found the money, she never took even one bill. Instead, she always did the same careful thing.
She gathered every note. She sorted them by size. She counted them out loud in a soft voice to make sure the amount was right.
Then she wrote a small note with perfect handwriting. The notes were always the same style.
$10,000 found on kitchen counter. All bills present and sorted. Sarah Miller, $15,000 located in bathroom.
Counted twice. Returned as found. Sarah Miller. She placed each note right on top of the neat stack and went back to her work.
James collected every single note. He kept them locked in his desk drawer like secret treasures.
The more notes he had, the more confused he became. Why did she never take anything?
Everyone else had. What made her different? One afternoon, James noticed something strange. Every Tuesday and every Thursday, Sarah finished her work 30 minutes early.
She would quickly tidy the last room, then leave through the side gate without saying much.
At first, James thought nothing of it. But after a few months, the pattern bothered him.
Was she meeting someone? Selling the information about his house? His old mistrust came rushing back.
One Thursday, he could not hold back his curiosity any longer. When Sarah left early, he slipped into his car and followed her at a safe distance.
She drove an old car that rattled and coughed smoke. She parked outside City General Hospital and hurried inside.
James parked far away, then followed on foot. He stayed behind pillars and waited in the shadows.
He found her in the pediatric oncology ward. Through the glass window, he saw Sarah sitting beside a small bed.
A 7-year-old boy lay there with tubes in his arms and a thin blanket over his legs.
His head was bald from medicine. The boy smiled weakly when Sarah kissed his forehead.
