Chapter 6
John grabbed the bank statements, gave them a quick look, then checked the pregnancy test report. "Do you have any proof about the condoms?"
"Yeah, I took photos. I got close-ups of the condoms he poked holes in. You can see the pinholes under the light," Emily replied.
"What about recordings? Did you record his call to Sophia?" John pressed.
Emily paused for a second. "No. It all happened so fast that day," she said.
"Make sure to collect more evidence next time," John said, jotting down a few notes. "For the asset transfer, these bank statements will work as evidence.
"But for the part about him trying to get you pregnant on purpose, all you have right now is your own statement and a few photos of the condoms. Legally, we need something more direct."
"Like what?" Emily asked.
"Like chat logs or voice recordings of him and Sophia talking about it. Or testimony from a third party," John explained.
Emily nodded. "I'll figure something out when I get home."
"Ms. Shaw, there's one more thing," John said, setting his pen down. "You're six weeks pregnant.
"If you're aiming to get the most out of the divorce, there are two things you need to pay attention to.
"First, make sure you lock in the evidence before he moves all the money out. Second, you need to really think about whether you want to keep the baby or not.
"The sooner you make up your mind, the better it is for your health."
Emily glanced down at her belly. "I understand."
As she stepped out of John's office, her phone rang. It was Frank.
He said, "Emily, where are you? Come home early tonight. My mom's coming over for dinner."
"Okay," Emily replied.
She hung up and stood outside the office building. The afternoon sun was so bright, it made the asphalt look almost white.
Then she took a cab home.
That evening, four people sat around the dinner table: Frank, Emily, Helen, and Sophia.
Helen sat next to Sophia and served her a piece of rib. "Sophia, eat up. You're so skinny."
Sophia murmured a quiet "thank you" and carefully pulled the meat off the bone.
Helen glanced at Emily again. "You should eat too. You're pregnant, don't go hungry."
Emily picked up some greens with her fork. "Helen, I have something I want to ask you."
Helen kept chewing, not even looking up. "Go ahead."
"Do you know why Frank suddenly wants a baby?" Emily asked.
Everyone fell silent for a moment.
Frank's fork tapped against the edge of his plate, making a soft clink.
Helen looked up, first at Emily, then at Frank. "It's perfectly normal to want a baby at his age. You're just overthinking things."
Emily nodded and didn't say anything else.
But she noticed Sophia's left hand under the table, clutching her pant leg in a death grip.
After dinner, Emily was washing dishes in the kitchen when Helen walked in.
"Emily," Helen called out.
"Helen," Emily replied.
Helen leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. "Let me be straight with you.
"You've been married into the Sanders family for five years, never worked, and relied on my son for everything. Now that you're pregnant, just focus on keeping the baby healthy.
"Don't meddle in things that aren't your concern, and stop poking your nose where it doesn't belong."
Emily turned off the faucet and turned around. "What 'things that aren't my concern' are you talking about?"
Helen's expression turned cold. "You're a smart girl. Smart people know when to keep their mouths shut."
She walked out without another word.
Emily stood in the kitchen, water still dripping from her hands.
She grabbed a dish towel to dry off, then pulled out her phone. She snapped a photo of the bank statements she'd printed today and sent them to John.
Then she opened a new recording app she'd just downloaded and tested the audio quality.
She tucked her phone into her apron pocket, and it could clearly pick up any conversation within a meter.
Emily still hadn't managed to get any audio evidence about the condom situation.
Frank was extremely cautious. He never spoke to Sophia when Emily was around, and whenever he needed to make a call, he'd always step out onto the balcony or leave the room.
His phone was locked with both fingerprint and face recognition. Emily had even tried unlocking it by holding it up to his face while he slept, but his eyelids twitched, and she lost her nerve.
Until that Wednesday night, Frank came home late from work, reeking of booze.
He collapsed onto the couch and tossed his jacket over the armrest.
Emily poured him a glass of water. "Did you drink too much?"
"The client insisted, I couldn't say no," Frank replied, taking the glass and downing a couple of gulps. "I'm exhausted. I'm going to take a shower."
As he got up to head to the bathroom, his phone slipped out of his jacket pocket and landed on the couch cushion.
Frank didn't even look back.
Emily heard the bathroom door close, followed by the sound of the shower turning on.
She walked over to the couch and picked up the phone. The screen lit up.
Frank must've been too drunk to lock his phone. It was open on a chat screen.
The group chat was called "Project Team." But none of the messages were about work.
Emily scrolled up, checking each message.