'The Trusting Instinct' by Abha Iyengar

“Please wait, Sir,” Grace said, “I have your payment right here.”

I saw her rummaging through her desk drawer. I stood there, large-brimmed hat in hand, watching her.

I had handed Marcella the rare shell and told her to deliver it to the merchant. Two days later, Marcella had messaged, “The merchant has said, ‘Tell him to go to this store, ask for Grace, get his payment.’ I love you.” She sent the location. 

Grace looked up. She held a small revolver in her hand.

The sands of time had run out on me.

I should never have trusted Marcella.