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“What money?” Iris asked, her voice just above a whisper.
“The money that’s been disappearing from this house,” Henry said, his gaze sharp. “And don’t try to deny it. I know it’s you.”
There it was, the accusation hanging in the air. He could see the tension in Iris’s posture, the way she clenched her fists in her lap. She opened her mouth to speak but then closed it again, struggling to find the right words.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Iris finally said, her voice shaking ever so slightly. But Henry wasn’t convinced.
“I’ve been losing money for weeks now,” he continued, leaning forward. “And it’s all happened after you started working here. I don’t believe in coincidences.”
Iris looked away, her eyes darting around the room. The silence between them felt like an eternity, the weight of Henry’s words crushing her.
“I swear, Henry, I haven’t taken anything,” Iris said finally, her voice trembling. “I’ve worked hard for everything I have. You know that.”
Henry’s frustration boiled over. “Then where is it, Iris? Where is my money?”
The words hit her like a slap. She froze, her eyes widening with fear. Henry had never seen her like this before. The confident, composed woman was now visibly shaken.
“I don’t know,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “But I swear it’s not me.”
Henry leaned back in his chair, his mind racing. He couldn’t believe it. Could she really be innocent? Or was this all part of some elaborate game she was playing? He needed more than just her word. He needed evidence.
“Tell me, Iris,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “Do you know anything about the money that’s gone missing from this house?”
She didn’t answer right away. Her gaze shifted downward, and Henry could see the conflict playing across her face. The hesitation. The fear.