“Excellent. We will transfer the funds, and you will check with your bank to ensure the money has been received.”

It takes no time at all. Before I know it, while on the phone with my bank in Washington, I’m the better part of a million dollars richer.

“Is that all?” Mr. Santiago asks.

“No.” I pull the key out of my purse. “There’s a safety deposit box here that I also need to collect.”

He goes back to tapping those keys, then hums. “I don’t see one.”

“Listed under Lemonade, LLC,” Cam replies.

More tapping.

“Here it is. Let me verify something.” Mr. Santiago narrows his eyes, scrolls through the screen, and then nods. “Yes, here it is. You are the beneficiary. I’ll show you back.”

There’s no paperwork from the money transfer, which feels a little weird to me, but I guess that’s the whole point of this place.

No paper trail.

We’re shown down a long hallway and into another small room with a table and three chairs.

“If you’ll wait here, I’ll go get the box.”

“We’ll accompany you,” Cam replies. “You understand.”

“Of course.”

The room is massive. Rows and rows of boxes, that have to be twenty feet high. Mr. Santiago finds the correct box and slides a key in, then I slide my key in, and we turn them together.

The door opens and reveals a simple metal box, just like in the movies.

“You may look through the contents here, or in the room we were in before.”

“I might need to sit down,” I reply. “Can we please go back to the other room?”

“Of course.”

He says that a lot. I briefly wonder if it’s the same as when southern women say, “Bless your heart.”

Santiago leaves the room, and Cam and I sit next to each other, the unopened box on the table.

“Are we still being watched?” I whisper.

“Undoubtedly.”

I nod and open the extra bag I brought with me. “I’m just going to dump it in here, and then we can look through everything at the hotel.”

“I would also prefer that,” he says calmly.

I open the box and am stunned to find another box. So, I transfer it to the bag, and then Cameron and I stand to leave.

No one stops us as we make our way through the bank and outside. We don’t say a word as we walk the two blocks to the hotel, head up on the elevator, or even when we’re in the room. We just stand and stare at each other.

“Do hidden accounts collect interest?”

“As far as I know, not much.”

I nod and wonder why there was such a discrepancy between what Bill said was in there and what was really there but then shrug.