His shoulders shook, but he didn’t make a sound.

I looked down at Sam, who was sleeping in the plastic bassinet next to me.

His chest rose and fell beneath his thin hospital blanket.

He looked so small, his pale skin still showing the strain of the last few weeks.

“How is this possible?” I asked, my heart hammering against my ribs.

“How could she just walk in and take our money?”

“The old savings account,” Leo said, his voice muffled by his palms.

“It was never closed.”

He let his hands drop, his eyes red and rimmed with exhaustion.

“When we set up our current accounts, the banker linked them for overdraft protection,” he explained.

“And Josephine was still on that old account,” I said.

He nodded slowly.

“She must have walked into the branch this morning,” Leo said.

“She transferred everything from our savings into that old joint account, and then she withdrew it.”

Twelve thousand dollars.

That was our entire safety net.

It was the money we had saved for Sam’s pediatric specialists, our mortgage payment, and our groceries.