Chapter 2

After dinner, I took Wendy home.

She was exhausted and went to bed early.

I sat in the living room and booted up my computer.

I went over all the evidence I'd collected these past three years, double-checking every detail.

There were 156 bank transfers, totaling $290,000.

They went to the same hotel one time every week at least. Their chat logs were flirty, cringe-worthy, and disgusting. And the round-trip tickets to Avelaa, two people, 5,600 dollars each.

In total, it was 11,200 dollars.

That could cover half a year of Wendy's tuition.

I took screenshots, saved them, and backed everything up to the cloud.

Then I took out our marriage certificate and stared at it for a long time.

We'd been married for eighteen years.

What did I sacrifice in these eighteen years? My youth. My career. My health.

I gave up two promotions to take care of Wendy.

For this family, I pinched every penny, never splurged on myself.

And Curtis? What did he ever give me? A marriage in name only. A father who was never there. Eighteen years of lies.

Enough.

I put the marriage certificate back in the drawer, pulled out my phone, and sent Sarah a message. [Wendy is done with her exams. We can start now.]

She replied right away. [Got it. Let's meet tomorrow morning.]

I put my phone down and stared out into the night.

Tomorrow, everything would be changed.

*****

The next morning, I met Sarah at a café.

She slid a stack of documents across the table to me. "Here are Curtis's bank records from the past three years."

I flipped open the first page and saw all of the transfers crammed together.

"Billie." "Baby." "Sweetie." Every memo made my skin crawl.

"The biggest transfer was last August." Sarah pointed to a line of numbers. "50,000 dollars. The memo was 'For a purse.'"

Staring at that number, I suddenly remembered last August, when Wendy had just started her last year of high school. She was so stressed that she barely slept.

I took her to see a therapist. 150 bucks a session.

Curtis said it was way too expensive and told me not to take her. "She's being dramatic. Why bother with a therapist?"

That was what he said. But he dropped 50,000 dollars on a purse for his mistress.

"And there's this." Sarah flipped to another page. "In February this year, he transferred 30,000 dollars. The memo says 'rent.'"

"He's paying her rent?" I asked.

"It's not just rent." She looked at me. "The apartment he's renting for her is in the complex right next door to yours."

I was stunned. 'The next complex? I walk past that place every single day. Every time I go grocery shopping, every time I pick up Wendy from school. That woman lives there? She's that close to me.'

"Do you know what this means?" Sarah asked, her voice calm. "It means he's not only cheating on you, but he's set up a whole other family right under your nose."

I gripped my coffee cup tighter.

"There's one more thing." Sarah reached into her bag and pulled out a photo. "This is her."

I took the photo from her.

It showed a young woman, about twenty-six, with long hair, big eyes, and a smile so sweet.

"Her name's Billie Lewis, twenty-six. She used to be the receptionist at Curtis's company. Quit three years ago, hasn't lifted a finger for work since," Sarah said.

"No job at all?" I asked.

"No. Curtis wires her 6,600 dollars every month for living expenses. She doesn't need to work."

I stared at that young face in the picture, feeling a strange mix of anger and disbelief.

Twenty-six. Three years ago, I was thirty-five.

Back then, Wendy was just starting her last year of middle school. I was up at five every morning making breakfast, and stayed up till eleven checking her homework.

Every day, I was running around like crazy, barely had a moment to breathe.

He called me some washed-up wife, said I had no sense of style, and I was dull.

So, he'd already found someone else at that time.

"There's one more thing you probably don't know." Sarah paused for a second. "She's pregnant."

My hand trembled, and coffee splashed onto the table. "What?"

"Three months along." Sarah pulled out another sheet of paper. "This is her ultrasound report. I had someone dig it up for me. Curtis was right there with her for the checkup."

I stared at the ultrasound report. It read: [Name: Billie Lewis. Pregnant: 12 weeks. Private maternity clinic. VIP suite, all to herself.]

I couldn't help but laugh.

When I gave birth to Wendy, it was at the district maternity hospital.

I had to share a room with four other pregnant women.

The woman next to me cried nonstop, and I barely got any sleep.

Curtis claimed he was too busy and showed up only once.

Now, he took that woman to a fancy private hospital, making sure she got the VIP treatment.

"Alanna, are you okay?" Sarah glanced at my face. "You look really pale."

"I'm fine." I set my coffee cup down. "I'm thinking about how to make him pay for all this."

Sarah grinned. "That's what I want to hear. Here, check this out."

She pulled out another document.

"Here's your family's asset list. The house is worth 1.6 million dollars, under Curtis's name. You own two cars, one in your name and one in his.

"The stocks and funds are about 150,000 dollars. Savings are unclear, but judging by Curtis's income and spending, probably not much."

"Not much? He makes 11,500 dollars a month," I said.

"He sends 6,600 dollars a month to her, plus all the wining and dining." She shrugged. "He earns big, but he burns through it faster."

"So, what am I supposed to do? He blew all our money on her."