Then I looked at my daughter standing there in a rumpled prom dress, mascara streaked beneath her eyes, and a purse stuffed with cash.
Every terrible possibility rushed into my mind.
“Ellie, what is this?” I struggled to keep my voice calm.
“It’s nothing. Mom, please, it’s nothing.”
“This is definitely not nothing.” I held up the note. “Excellent performance. What performance? Who gave this to you? And the money… what is the money for?”
“I can’t tell you.” Her lower lip trembled. “Please, just leave it alone.”
“Leave it alone? You came home at four in the morning carrying an envelope full of cash and a note that sounds like—”
I couldn’t even finish.
The implication left my mouth dry.
“It’s not what you think,” she whispered.
“Then tell me what it is.”
She shook her head.
Her entire frame trembled.
“Ellie, please.” I reached toward her.
She stepped away.
Tears filled her eyes.
She shook her head once more, turned, and ran upstairs.
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