Chapter 1

I opened my bank app, ready to pay my tuition, but the balance stared back at me: 12,494 dollars.

I stared at the screen, wondering if my eyes were playing tricks on me.

There was supposed to be 270,000 dollars in this account.

This was the nest egg for Anna, saved bit by bit—my mother spent fifteen years sewing clothes, and my father sold our old family home. Every cent was earned through sweat and sacrifice.

I never touched a cent of it—it was all meant for Anna.

I refreshed the page again.

12,494 dollars.

Where did the 254,000 dollars go?

My mother gave me this card with her own hands.

On my wedding day, she pulled me aside into a room and took a bank card from beneath her pillow.

"Anna, there's 260,000 dollars here. I've spent my whole life saving it for you," she said.

Her hands were covered in calluses.

She'd spent fifteen years as a seamstress, her fingers layered with scars—one on top of another—from endless hours at the sewing machine.

"Your dad sold our old family land so we could round it up," she added.

She gently pressed the card into my hand.

"Don't let your husband know about this. This is your backup—your confidence," she said.

"Keep it for your children's education. Don't waste it on anything else," she reminded me.

I nodded.

I married Alex Carter, a guy I met in college. We were together for four years before getting married right after graduation.

His family was pretty average. His parents lived in a small town and didn't have much saved up.

I didn't care.

Mum always said, "As long as he's a good person, that's what matters. You build your life together, day by day."

In our first year of marriage, Alex brought up splitting everything fifty-fifty.

"We're not exactly rolling in cash, so let's just keep things separate. It's fair," he said.

I figured it made sense.

He handled the mortgage, and I paid for the utilities.

I took care of groceries and cooking, and he'd sometimes whip up spaghetti on the weekends.

When I was pregnant, morning sickness hit me hard. I could barely eat and ended up losing ten pounds.

He just made me a bowl of plain cereal.

"Don't be so soft. My mom was out working the fields when she was pregnant with me," Alex said.

I just kept quiet.

After Anna was born, I ended up buying everything—formula, diapers, clothes, toys, you name it.

Alex said, "The kid belongs to both of us, but since you're the one in charge of the money..."

He left the rest unsaid.

I got the message loud and clear—because of the 260,000 dollars my family saved for me, I was expected to cover it all.

But I didn't spend a single penny from that 260,000 dollars.

I switched to generic formula, grabbed clothes only when they were on sale, and hunted for secondhand toys online.

All just so that money wouldn't shrink, and Anna could have it for her college fund down the road.

It's been three years now.

I never splurged on a new coat for myself.

At the company annual party, I wore the same dress I used to wear before I got pregnant.

One of my coworkers asked, "Have you lost weight?"

I just smiled at her and said, "It's all from chasing after Anna."

Alex worked as a project manager at a design firm, making5,000 dollars a month.

He wasn't big on spending, but he had this routine—every month, he'd transfer money into one account.

I asked him about it once.

He said, "It's the company's supplemental savings account. It's mandatory, so I can't withdraw anything."

I believed him.

For three years, he never splurged on anything major, never brought up traveling, and never said anything about upgrading the car.

I really thought we were in this together.

I figured we were both pinching pennies for the family.

I thought we were both stashing away cash for Anna.

But today, everything changed.

I pulled up my bank app to pay my kindergarten fees.

12,494 dollars

My hands were trembling.

I double-checked everything.

The card number was right. It was the right card.

The password was right, and I was the only one who knew it.

I opened up the transaction history.

My finger swiped across the screen.

One transaction after another.

"Transfer Out -5,000 dollars"

"Transfer Out -2,700 dollars"

"Transfer Out -4,000 dollars"

"Transfer Out -6,700 dollars"

The screen was flooded with them.

Every single one was a transfer out.

And they were all going to the same account.

The account holder's name was Emily Nolan.

I didn't recognize that name.

I started scrolling through the transactions, beginning with the most recent.

March, 5,000 dollars out.

February,2,700 dollars gone.

January,6,700 dollars transferred.

Last December, 4,000 dollars out.

November, 5000 dollars gone.

October, 3000 dollars out.

I kept scrolling back.

Just kept going.

Scrolled all the way back to three years ago.

First transfer was September, three years ago.

The amount was 1600 dollars.

The memo field had just four words.

"Emily, keep it up."

I laid my phone on the table.

The living room was quiet.

My daughter was napping in the next room, her breathing steady.

My head was buzzing.

Over 270,000 dollars.

Three years.

Every month, money was transferred out like clockwork.

From 1600 dollars to 5000 dollars, then up to 6700 dollars.

The biggest one was last July—16,000 dollars.

The memo said: "Surgery costs. Don't worry."

Suddenly, I remembered something.

I was the only one who knew the PIN for this card.

I'd never told Alex.

Wait, so how did he transfer the money?' I thought.

I opened up the "Security Settings."

There were two phones logged in.

One was mine.

The other had been connected for three years.

He used his own phone to access my bank account for three years.

While I was scrimping to afford baby formula, he was transferring money out of my account.

While I was stuck wearing old dresses, he was sending money to Emily.

While I was hunting for used toys online, he was writing "Emily, keep it up" in the memo field.

I sat on the couch, completely still.

For what felt like forever.

Then I grabbed my phone and started snapping screenshots of every single transfer, one by one.

From the very first to the very last.

156 transfers in all.

The total came to over 254,172 dollars.

I tucked the screenshots away in a private, encrypted album.

Then I sent a text to my college roommate, Rachel Stone.

Rachel was a lawyer.

"Rachel, are you free this afternoon? I need to ask you something," I texted.

Rachel texted back right away: "What's up?"

"Let's talk when you get here," I replied.

I got up and washed my face.

The woman in the mirror had eyes rimmed with red.

But she didn't cry.

I didn't cry.