Declan stopped laughing.
“Millions?”
“Don’t bend it!” Owen shouted. “Get an expert!”
Declan reached for the comic.
“Let me see.”
I pulled it away.
“Millions?”
“You just called it junk.”
“I didn’t know!”
“Neither did I.”
I carefully put it down. Declan was already searching auction prices.
My husband was finally satisfied with me, but I wasn’t with him.
The next morning, he showed me his phone.
“Layla, one sold for millions! We need a buyer.”
Declan was already searching auction prices.
“We need to know if ours is real.”
I contacted a rare-comics expert, arranged proper storage, and consulted a lawyer about ownership, since other people had owned the house.
Declan hated waiting.
“What if someone offers us cash?”
