Chapter 2

That night, I resisted the urge to go to Riverside Avenue.

I knew that if I rushed over on impulse, I'd end up with nothing.

I needed to know more.

I was an authorized user on Kayce's payroll account, so I could comb through his bank records.

I pulled the last three years of transactions and saved them onto a USB drive.

Then I checked each one, line by line, until 2 AM.

I made a list. There was a regular monthly transfer of 6,000 dollars, marked as "daily expenses." Over three years, that came to 216,000 dollars.

[Shopping at luxury stores, totaling 137,000 dollars.

[Dining at upscale restaurants, two or three times a month, totaling 30,000 dollars.

[Hotel expenses, 60,000 dollars.

[The apartment was paid in full: 953,000 dollars.]

I did the math.

Then I double-checked.

The total was 1,420,000 dollars.

That was insane.

I leaned back in my chair.

Kayce and I had been married for seven years.

For those years, I was the one who took care of all the bills. Mortgage, car payments, Nancy's tuition, groceries, maintenance fees, water, and electricity.

I made 4,000 dollars a month, and he made 8,300 dollars.

Every month, he'd send 2,700 dollars home.

The rest? He always said it was for investments, business dinners, or company cash flow.

I believed him.

Not only did I believe him, but I also scrimped and saved every penny.

I always shopped for groceries on sale.

I went three years without buying any new clothes for myself.

Most of Nancy's clothes were hand-me-downs from my coworkers' kids.

Last year, my mom was diagnosed with gallstones and had to stay in the hospital. The bill came to 11,000 dollars.

I asked Kayce if we could help cover it.

He said, "Why do you always have to count on me for your mom? Doesn't your brother ever help out?"

I didn't argue with him.

I pulled 11,000 dollars from my secret stash.

That was money I'd been squirreling away for two years.

Back when I started saving, I was thinking maybe Nancy could join a really nice enrichment class someday.

11,000 dollars.

He gave that woman 6,000 dollars every month for three years.

Yet when my mom was in the hospital, he didn't support a dime.

*****

I shut down my computer and went to peek into Nancy's room.

Nancy was sound asleep, hugging her old bunny plush.

I'd bought that bunny for her at a flea market when she was three, for 8 dollars.

The stitching on the bunny's ears was coming undone, but she still held it close.

Because I'd told her, "Money's tight right now. When mom has some, I'll get you a bigger one."

Nancy waited four years for that.

1,420,000 dollars. How many bunnies could that buy?

I held it together for another week.

I kept everything bottled up the whole week.

I cooked, went to work, and took Nancy to school as usual.

Kayce was still acting as if nothing had happened.

He was still pulling the same old tricks like working late, taking business trips, and attending client dinners.

I didn't ask where he was going anymore.

Before, I'd ask, "What time will you be home? Are you eating with us?"

He'd say, "Not sure. Don't wait up."

So, I stopped waiting.

Now, I didn't bother asking anymore.

But I did something. I went to 198 Riverside Avenue.

Emerald Bay was a luxury complex.

It was way nicer than our old neighborhood on the north side of town.

Our building's elevators were always out of order, and the property management was useless.

But at Emerald Bay, there were gardens, fountains, and security guards dressed in sharp suits.

I stood at the entrance for a long time.

The apartment was in building 7, 1203.

I seemed to see some clothes through the window. Among them was a man's shirt.

I knew that shirt. Last year, on my birthday, I got it for Kayce. It cost 400 dollars.

He wore it once and said it didn't fit. Then I never saw him wear it again.

So, it wasn't that it didn't fit. He wore it here.

After I took a picture, I went downstairs and lingered by the parcel lockers near the entrance for a bit.

That was when a young woman came out to grab her parcel.

She was probably twenty-five or twenty-six, had long hair, and was wearing a dress.

She was holding a package with the Regency Boutique logo on it.

I watched her.

She was smiling as she talked on the phone, "I got it. It looks amazing. Thank you, honey."

I heard every word.

There was no doubt she was talking to a man, with a 132,700-dollar bag in her arms.

I turned and walked away.

When I got to my car, I didn't cry.

I sat there for ten minutes. Then I pulled out my phone and zoomed in on the photo.

I knew that girl.

It was none other than Romy Padilla.

Three years ago, Kayce's company started an employee charity scholarship program.

Every manager and above was assigned to sponsor a struggling college student.

Kayce ended up sponsoring Romy.

He told me at that time, "Her family's dirt poor. Her parents have no decent job, and they can't pay her tuition."

I said, "Then let's help her."

I even suggested that maybe she could intern at Kayce's company after graduation.

Kayce said, "You're so kind."

Kind, huh?

I was honestly so kind that I practically handed the other woman straight to my husband.