Chapter 3

I had no idea how long I'd been parking at the station.

My phone rang. It was Vance calling.

I declined the call.

He called again.

I declined again.

On the third call, I picked up.

"Honey, where are you?" Vance's voice sounded normal, with a hint of concern.

"I'm out dealing with something." My voice was flat, giving nothing away.

"Did you drop John off?"

"Yes."

"Come home early. I asked the maid to make your favorite fish."

"Okay."

I hung up, stuffed the cookie tin into my bag, and slipped the USB drive and the note into my pocket.

*****

Then I started the car. But I didn't go home.

I drove over to the riverside and turned off the engine.

The river churned in the darkness, slapping against the rocks on the shore.

I took out the USB drive.

There was no computer in the car.

I stared at that tiny drive.

It held the truth of my fifteen-year marriage.

I felt sick instead of getting mad or sad.

Sickness washed me over, like I'd swallowed a fly.

I rolled down the window, letting the cold, wet air from the river rush in.

I wanted to throw the USB drive into the river, along with all those photos and records.

Then I'd go home and pretend as if nothing had happened.

Vance would still be a loving husband.

And I'd still be his wife who lived happily.

That thought only lasted several seconds.

I couldn't do it.

John had lost his job and left the city he'd called home for fifteen years, all because of this.

He was nearly sixty. I wondered where he could go or what job he could find.

He gave up the stability of his later years for this USB drive and gave it to me.

If I threw it away, I'd let him down and betray myself.

I pulled out my phone and booked the nearest hotel.

I needed a computer.

I should find out how much of a joke I'd been for the past fifteen years.

*****

The hotel room was nothing special.

I plugged the USB drive into the laptop.

There was only one folder inside.

It was called "Evidence".

I opened it.

Inside, there were many sub-folders.

Each was labeled by year.

I opened the earliest one, which was from six years ago.

It was full of photos, way more and clearer than the ones in the cookie tin.

There were shots of Vance and Vivian in various places.

At the company's annual party, they clinked glasses off in the corner.

On Vance's overseas business trips, Vivian was the only one who went with him.

In group photos, everyone else kept their distance, but they stood shoulder to shoulder.

I kept flipping through the photos.

So many little things looked familiar to me.

The necklace around Vivian's neck was the same style as the one Vance gave me for my birthday, after he said he'd forgotten to buy me a present.

The bracelet on her wrist was the one Vance had picked up at an auction, telling me it was meant to be my anniversary gift.

The red sports car Vivian drove had a license plate that looked familiar.

Then it hit me.

Vance had told me the company bought it for client meetings.

It turned out that Vivian was the VIP "client" all along.

The folder had an audio file, too.

John had used a voice recorder to capture it.

It was the chat between Vance and Vivian in the car.

"Darling, when are you going to divorce that old hag?" Vivian's voice was cloying.

"Soon, baby, wait a bit longer." Vance sounded totally doting. "The company's at a critical stage right now.

"Most of the shares are still under her name, so I can't touch them.

"Once I get those shares from her, I'll marry you right away."

"You're so wicked. You always say that," Vivian complained.

"I mean it this time," Vance promised.

"Then when you go home tonight, don't sleep with her."

"Alright, my jealous baby. I won't go near her. I'll be thinking about you, okay?"

The rest was too explicit to bear.

I hit pause.

My stomach churned so hard.

I dashed into the bathroom and puked my guts out.

By the end, all that came up was bitter bile.

I braced myself against the wall, staring at my reflection in the mirror.

My face was ghastly, hair a tangled mess.

My eyes were bloodshot.

This was the face Vance looked at day in, day out.

He looked at this face and said "I love you" every day.

He fell asleep every night holding this "old hag" in his arms.

I wondered how he managed it.

I went back to the computer and kept going.

There were bank transfer records.

Every month, Vance would wire a big chunk of cash to Vivian from some secret account I'd never heard of.

The amounts were lucky numbers implying love.

There was also a property purchase contract.

It was a full-floor condo in a neighborhood not far from our home.

The owner was Vivian.

Vance was the one who paid for it.

The date was last year.

I remembered last year, Vance told me the company was short on cash and asked me to sell the two apartments I owned to support the business.

I sold them off.

My parents had left them to me.

Every dollar from the sale went straight to him.

So it wasn't the company that was struggling.

It turned out that his "client" needed a new apartment.

My hands were shaking.

I lit a cigarette.

I hadn't smoked in years.

The smoke burned my throat, making me cough.

Tears started to fall.

I thought I was crying, but I wasn't.

I was only choked up by the smoke.

The last file on the USB drive was a document written by John.

He documented everything he knew, including the dates, places, and persons, in detail.

He even recorded the chats between Vance and Vivian.

Once, Vivian asked Vance what was so great about me that he hadn't divorced me all these years.

Vance said, "Nothing special about her. She's only obedient and easy to push around.

"Everything her parents left is still in her name. That's a goldmine.

"Once I've got it all, she's done for.

"I'll make sure she leaves with nothing to her name.

"You're the only woman who matters to me. You'll be the lady of the house."

At the end of the document, John left a note: [Mrs. Gates, I'm not a man of many words, and I never had much schooling.

[All I know is, he's a bastard.

[You gotta be careful and look after yourself.]

I shut the laptop.

The cigarette burned down to the filter, scorching my fingers.

But I didn't feel the pain.

I stared out the window.

The sky was getting lighter.

A new day was coming.

Yeah, this was a new day.

It was time for me to start over.