I heard my wife give my PIN to her mother, and then, there was absolute silence. – thuytien

And then Constance started showing up. She never liked me. On our first day, she asked me about my “career plans.” And I happily told her I managed the bookstore my other grandfather had left me. She repeated, “A bookstore?” as if I’d said “a meth lab.”
But after my grandfather Henry died and the money arrived in my account, suddenly Constance was there all the time: with stews, asking about my health, mentioning her “small pension” while eyeing my new watch—a $300 Seiko—as if it were a provocation.
“It must be nice to be able to indulge,” she said.
The stews were awful. Too much salt. Burnt edges. As if she’d never cooked for someone who truly cared.
Three weeks ago, I came home early from the bookstore with a migraine and found them in the kitchen. They were talking in hushed tones. I stopped in the hallway, and something told me to be quiet.
“He’s not going to hand it over just like that,” Lydia said. “Kieran is strangely attached to that money. He talks about ‘honoring the legacy’ of his grandfather Henry.” She said it sarcastically, as if my grandfather were a joke.
“Then take it from him without asking,” Constance replied coldly. “You’re his wife. You have access to everything. Get the PIN.”
“I’ll make the withdrawal. We’ll split it. Tell him it was hackers, identity theft, whatever.”
“What if he finds out?”
“He won’t find out. Men like Kieran don’t notice. He’s too busy.”