Chapter 1

While sorting out James Howard's tax documents, I stumbled across a Velorium purchase. It cost 47,600 dollars. It was a women's bracelet. It had been bought three months ago.

I froze for a few seconds, then got up, and walked to the bedroom. I opened the second drawer on the left side of my vanity and took out my jewelry box.

Inside were a necklace, a pair of silver earrings, and a watch James had given me for my birthday. No Velorium bracelet.

I searched the living room drawers, the shoe cabinet, the wardrobe's hidden compartment, and even the locked cabinet in the study. Still nothing.

My husband spent 16,000 dollars on a Velorium women's bracelet... one I had never even seen?

I snapped a picture of the bill and tucked it away in a freshly encrypted album, just in case. After that, I calmly stacked the tax documents back together and slipped them into the folder.

James had better have an explanation that actually made sense.

*****

There was a handy feature in the credit card app called "Export Transaction Details." Most people had no clue, but if the main and supplementary cards were linked to the same phone number, they could see every single transaction right in the app.

I had spent seven years doing compliance audits at the bank. Digging through accounts was basically my superpower.

That night, I lounged on the sofa and spent forty minutes exporting every single transaction James had made in the past six months.

I skipped over the hotel check-in records. Those needed a different approach to investigate. There was no rush. I focused only on the spending.

In January, a floral studio charged him 200 dollars. But I never got any flowers.

In February, at a designer counter, he spent 4,000 dollars. No, I never saw a new purse either.

In March, the Velorium purchase cost him 16,000 dollars.

In April, at a luxury health clinic, he paid 3000 dollars for a couple's package. I hadn't had a check-up this year.

In May and June, that same steak place kept showing up again and again in his restaurant bills.

I pulled up the credit card rewards redemption history. 38,000 points had been traded for two tickets to a family amusement park. James and I didn't have any kids.

At 7:10, I heard the door unlock.

James walked in. He glanced at the papers spread out on the table and asked casually, "Did you finish sorting my tax documents?"

"Yeah, all done," I replied. I closed my laptop, hiding the exported Excel sheet that was still open on the screen. Staring at James, I asked, "There was a Velorium charge here. It was 16,000 dollars. Do you remember what that was for?"

James' hand paused mid-button, caught off guard for a second. He replied, "It was a birthday gift for a client's wife. Just something for the occasion."

"Oh," I said, nodding as if I believed him. I nodded again, keeping my tone steady. "Did you keep the receipt? You would need it for the company reimbursement."

"I lost it. I will look for it later," he replied. He walked into the bathroom and closed the door behind him.

As the water started running, I double-checked the transaction details I had saved on my phone.

Just a gift, huh. A 16,000-dollar Velorium bracelet, just a gift? Yeah, right. James couldn't even be bothered to put a little effort into his lies.

After his shower, James crashed straight into bed and was out like a light. I lay awake in the darkness, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing.

Suddenly, the phone on the nightstand lit up. It was a message notification.

I rolled over and glanced at the sender's name. It was "Susan." Next to Susan's name was a pink heart emoji.

I did not touch his phone. It was not that I did not want to snoop. It just was not the right moment yet.