Chapter 2 · I Saw the Second Life

I arrived at the accounting firm right on time the next day.

It was peak audit season, and three stacks of corporate financial statements were piled high on my desk.

I flipped open the first one. It was a construction materials company, the same industry Frank worked in.

When I saw the "Sales Expenses Business Entertainment" column, I paused for a second. Then, I kept right on working on my audit papers.

At lunch, my colleague, Faye, asked me to join her. "Rachel, you look awful. Did you not sleep last night?"

"I stayed up late grinding through those statements," I replied.

"You're a machine. I don't know how Frank lets you overwork yourself like that," Faye said.

I took a bite of my food and let the comment slide.

At 3 PM, I ducked out to the bank. I wasn't there for a standard transaction; I was there to pull the records.

Since I was the one who helped Frank set up his payroll account, I had the authorization linked to my phone number. The teller handed me seven pages of transaction history.

I didn't look at them there. I just folded them up, tucked them into my bag, and headed back to my cubicle.

When I got home that night, Frank wasn't there. I whipped up some spaghetti Bolognese for my daughter and sat with her while she drew a picture.

She drew three people—her mother, her father, and herself. "Look, Mom. I made Dad the tallest."

"It's beautiful, sweetie," I said.

Once she was fast asleep, I locked myself in the study and spread out those seven pages of records. I started cross-referencing everything.

It was an occupational hazard for auditors. Whenever we see numbers, we start hunting for anything unusual.

I found the red flags pretty fast. Starting eight months ago, a transfer went out like clockwork the day after his paycheck hit.

The amounts varied. The lowest was 1500 dollars, and the highest was 6000 dollars. The memo lines were all blank. The recipient's name was Mandy Evans.

In eight months, he'd funneled out a total of 42 thousand dollars. Add that to the 38 thousand dollar investment for the flower shop I found in his notes, and we were looking at 80 thousand dollars.

Then I dug into the credit card statements.

There were six transactions at a steakhouse I've never even set foot in, each bill between 250 and 500 dollars.

There were two purchases from a jewelry brand I didn't recognize. One for 2266 dollars and another for 4000 dollars.

And then there were three transactions at a hotel. Every single one was on a Friday. Frank always said it was a "team-building event."

I logged all the numbers into an Excel sheet and broke them down into categories.

[Direct Transfers: 42000]

[Flower Shop Investment: 38000]

[Dining: 1956]

[Jewelry: 6266]

[Hotel: 1500 (three stays, averaging 500 dollars each)]

[Grand Total: 89722]

I stared at that total, and my mind flashed back to last month when our daughter had a fever. I'd rushed her to the ER in the middle of the night.

Frank told me he was stuck at a business dinner and couldn't get away. That night was a Friday.

I shut down my laptop and stepped out onto the balcony for a breather. Downstairs, the streetlights cast a dim yellow glow, and someone was out walking their dog.

I took out my phone and shot a text to my best friend, Sophie Grant: [Sophie, do you know any good divorce attorneys?]

Three seconds later, she sent back a question mark. Five seconds after that: [What's going on?]

I replied: [Just help me look around for now. No rush.]

Sophie pressed: [Rachel, you better tell me everything.]

I replied: [Let's grab coffee and talk soon.]

I set my phone down and went back to the study. I opened the laptop and added a new header to the final column of that Excel sheet: [Asset Transfer Plan.]

Chapter 2

I arrived at the accounting firm right on time the next day.

It was peak audit season, and three stacks of corporate financial statements were piled high on my desk.

I flipped open the first one. It was a construction materials company, the same industry Frank worked in.

When I saw the "Sales Expenses Business Entertainment" column, I paused for a second. Then, I kept right on working on my audit papers.

At lunch, my colleague, Faye, asked me to join her. "Rachel, you look awful. Did you not sleep last night?"

"I stayed up late grinding through those statements," I replied.

"You're a machine. I don't know how Frank lets you overwork yourself like that," Faye said.

I took a bite of my food and let the comment slide.

At 3 PM, I ducked out to the bank. I wasn't there for a standard transaction; I was there to pull the records.

Since I was the one who helped Frank set up his payroll account, I had the authorization linked to my phone number. The teller handed me seven pages of transaction history.

I didn't look at them there. I just folded them up, tucked them into my bag, and headed back to my cubicle.

When I got home that night, Frank wasn't there. I whipped up some spaghetti Bolognese for my daughter and sat with her while she drew a picture.

She drew three people—her mother, her father, and herself. "Look, Mom. I made Dad the tallest."

"It's beautiful, sweetie," I said.

Once she was fast asleep, I locked myself in the study and spread out those seven pages of records. I started cross-referencing everything.

It was an occupational hazard for auditors. Whenever we see numbers, we start hunting for anything unusual.

I found the red flags pretty fast. Starting eight months ago, a transfer went out like clockwork the day after his paycheck hit.

The amounts varied. The lowest was 1500 dollars, and the highest was 6000 dollars. The memo lines were all blank. The recipient's name was Mandy Evans.

In eight months, he'd funneled out a total of 42 thousand dollars. Add that to the 38 thousand dollar investment for the flower shop I found in his notes, and we were looking at 80 thousand dollars.

Then I dug into the credit card statements.

There were six transactions at a steakhouse I've never even set foot in, each bill between 250 and 500 dollars.

There were two purchases from a jewelry brand I didn't recognize. One for 2266 dollars and another for 4000 dollars.

And then there were three transactions at a hotel. Every single one was on a Friday. Frank always said it was a "team-building event."

I logged all the numbers into an Excel sheet and broke them down into categories.

[Direct Transfers: 42000]

[Flower Shop Investment: 38000]

[Dining: 1956]

[Jewelry: 6266]

[Hotel: 1500 (three stays, averaging 500 dollars each)]

[Grand Total: 89722]

I stared at that total, and my mind flashed back to last month when our daughter had a fever. I'd rushed her to the ER in the middle of the night.

Frank told me he was stuck at a business dinner and couldn't get away. That night was a Friday.

I shut down my laptop and stepped out onto the balcony for a breather. Downstairs, the streetlights cast a dim yellow glow, and someone was out walking their dog.

I took out my phone and shot a text to my best friend, Sophie Grant: [Sophie, do you know any good divorce attorneys?]

Three seconds later, she sent back a question mark. Five seconds after that: [What's going on?]

I replied: [Just help me look around for now. No rush.]

Sophie pressed: [Rachel, you better tell me everything.]

I replied: [Let's grab coffee and talk soon.]

I set my phone down and went back to the study. I opened the laptop and added a new header to the final column of that Excel sheet: [Asset Transfer Plan.]