Petra B Nutter

It started with a receipt. I wasn't snooping. I was just cleaning Petra's home office while they were at work. Bills were stacked everywhere, papers covered the desk, and one folder slipped off the edge when I picked it up. A folded receipt slid onto the floor. I almost threw it away before one detail caught my attention. Hotel Grandview. Second Wednesday of last month. One-night room charge. That didn't make any sense. Petra had told me there was a late meeting that night. Then my eyes dropped to the guest name. Guest: Petuna I read it again. Petuna. I didn't know anyone by that name. A strange feeling settled in my stomach as I looked over the receipt. It wasn't just the hotel—it was the date. The second Wednesday of the month. For some reason, that date felt... familiar. I walked over to the calendar hanging on the wall and started checking previous months. Second Wednesday. Second Wednesday. Second Wednesday. Every month. My pulse quickened. How many times had Petra left work early on those exact days? How many times had I accepted the same vague explanation without questioning it? I stared back down at the receipt. Guest: Petuna. Who... was Petuna?