Chapter 4
From that day on, I started living two lives.
On the surface, I was exactly the same as before.
I shopped for groceries, cooked, cleaned the house, and picked up my daughter from school.
On weekends, I played cards with the neighbors, laughing whether I won or lost.
Everyone said, "Susan's so easygoing that nothing ever gets her down."
No one knew what I did every night after Edward fell asleep.
He snored like a bear, sleeping so deep nothing could wake him.
I'd sneak into the bathroom and scroll through his phone.
His lock screen password was my birthday. He never changed it.
He really thought I was clueless.
I took photos of every chat with Mandy: screenshots of every transfer and every hotel booking.
I saved every photo that woman sent to a separate USB drive.
I hid the USB drive on the top shelf of the kitchen spice rack, behind the pepper jar. He'd never even look there in his whole life.
*****
Three months later, Mandy gave birth. A boy.
Edward threw a party, but didn't invite a single person from our family.
How did I know? Bank records.
A hotel charge of nine thousand dollars, labeled "party."
On the same day, another five thousand dollars went to a baby store.
When he came home, he couldn't hide his grin.
I was chopping vegetables in the kitchen. "What's got you so happy today?"
"Landed a big contract. The client took me out for dinner."
"That's nice." I chopped the ribs into small pieces. The sound was crisp.
He glanced at me from the living room and shrank his neck. "What's all that noise?"
"Chopping ribs. You like them, don't you?"
He didn't say another word.
That night, I wrote in my notebook: [Illegitimate son born, date, party expenses, and baby supplies expenses.]
The notebook was already more than ten pages thick.
Frank was right. Evidence needed to be collected continuously. The more, the better.
But evidence alone wasn't enough. I needed money.
At the six-month mark, I brought something up to Edward. "I want to set up a breakfast stall."
He paused with his fork. "You? A stall?"
"I've got nothing else to do. Might as well make some pocket money."
He laughed. "Sure, whatever. Don't let it interfere with cooking."
He thought I was bored, messing around.
*****
The next day, I got up at four in the morning.
I pushed a cart to the morning market, selling pancakes.
The first month, I made eleven hundred dollars.
The second month, I made fifteen hundred dollars.
After half a year, I had regular customers and was making 3 thousand dollars a month.
I didn't bring a single cent home and put it all into a new bank account I opened for myself.
Edward didn't know about this card.
Frank helped me set it up, and I chose a bank in the next city.
"It's not a lot, but you need your own account," Frank told me at the time. "This is your bottom line."
I remembered that.
Meanwhile, Edward's business was booming. He started buying houses.
The first one was a school district house, right next to our daughter's school.
It was in his name. But the money came from the company account after we got married.
After Frank looked at the purchase contract, he said, "Anything bought after marriage, no matter whose name it's in, is marital property. Let him buy. The more, the better."
I went home and made Edward a pot of his favorite soup. "Honey, you're amazing."
He was walking on air from my praise.
By the end of that year, he bought a second house.
I wrote it down in my notebook and put a checkmark next to it.
The next year, he bought a third house.
The third year, he bought a fourth.
He was getting more and more addicted to buying houses, and my notebook was getting thicker and thicker.
I recorded every contract number, payment source, and purchase date for each house.
I even upgraded to a larger USB drive.
Edward had no clue that every house he bought was another ace up my sleeve.
He thought he was setting up his illegitimate son for life. But really, he was making me richer.