Chapter 5
The next week, I started digging through his credit card statements.
Not the secondary account—his primary one.
He always assumed I had no clue how to access his main dashboard.
But once, when he was buying something online, he asked me to pull the verification code for him.
The text came through on his phone.
The phone was right in my hand.
That's how I caught a glimpse of his primary card details.
Turns out, he used the same password as the backup card—our wedding anniversary.
This primary statement was where the real horror lay buried.
The spending on the secondary card was already insane.
The primary card was on a whole other level.
January 2022—the month I lost the baby.
January 15th: Two plane tickets headed to Suncrest Resort Town.
January 15th: Checked into the presidential suite at the Atlantis Grand Hotel for two nights.
January 16th: Couples' spa package at the resort—1,200 dollars.
January 17th: Blew 7,000 dollars at the luxury duty-free shops.
I had my miscarriage on January 16th.
That same day, he was lounging in the resort, enjoying a couples' massage.
I was lying alone in a surgery prep room at a hospital.
While he was soaking up the sun poolside.
I kept scrolling.
January 18th: Blew 20,000 dollars at a jewelry boutique.
20,000 dollars.
What did he buy?
I had no idea what it was.
But right around Valentine's Day 2022, Zoey posted a photo to her Instagram.
A close-up of her hand, showing off a diamond ring.
Caption: [Best gift ever.]
I gave it a like.
I commented: [Wow, that's gorgeous! Who's the lucky guy?]
She replied: [Secret.]
A secret worth 20,000 dollars.
He bought it the day after my miscarriage.
I screenshotted every single line of evidence.
I moved them all into a hidden, password-protected folder.
That night, Ryan actually made it home early.
He even walked in with a couple of grocery bags.
"Dinner's on me tonight," he said with a grin.
I watched his back as he prepped everything at the kitchen island.
He had an apron tied over his work shirt, humming some radio hit to himself.
He put together three things.
Braised short ribs, roasted asparagus, and a Caesar salad.
"Take a bite," he said, handing me a fork.
I took a piece of the rib.
"How is it?" Ryan asked.
"It's delicious," I said.
He beamed, looking genuinely proud of himself.
"See? I'm finally getting the hang of this, right?" he asked.
"Yeah," I replied.
I finished every single bite.
I made sure I swallowed it all.
He had no clue I'd already shredded his primary card statements.
He had no idea I knew this had been going on for five long years.
He had no clue I knew about the kid who was already three years old.
He really thought a plate of braised short ribs could just make everything okay.
He still thought I was the same Emma—the wife who was completely in the dark.
After dinner, I did the dishes.
He lounged on the couch, glued to his phone.
I could hear the rapid-fire tapping of his thumbs.
A message notification pinged.
He smiled.
I knew exactly who he was talking to.
I rinsed the last plate and wiped my hands dry.
"Honey," I called out.
"Yeah?" he said.
"I ran into Zoey today," I said. "She mentioned she's been pretty stressed lately. I was thinking of asking her to hang out this weekend."
His fingers froze for just a heartbeat.
Just a split second.
It lasted for less than a second.
"Yeah, that's fine," he said, not even looking up.
"Okay," she replied.
I walked into the bedroom.
I shut the door.
I grabbed my phone and messaged Monica.
Me: [Got his primary card statements—five years' worth. When I miscarried, he took her to Suncrest.]
Monica: [The evidence chain is basically complete. When are you pulling the trigger?]
Me: [No rush.]
I typed back.
Me: [Just one more thing to go.]