Chapter 4 · My Husband Is Proposing To Another

"Sure," I replied.

"By the way, the water purifier at home needs a new filter. I already placed the order, it'll be delivered on Thursday," Lionel said.

"Got it."

He glanced at me, his expression carrying a subtle hint of scrutiny. "Why have you been so quiet lately?"

"I'm just tired."

"Work's been busy?"

"Yeah."

He let it go.

I stayed quiet too.

We sat across from each other at the table, like two gears that seemed to mesh, but had long since slipped out of alignment.

*****

At six in the morning on Wednesday, Lionel's alarm went off.

He got up, freshened up, and slipped into a dark blue suit.

His suitcase, a 28-inch black Samsonite, had been packed the night before.

I remember that suitcase.

He told me he bought it for a business trip last year.

Now I realized it was never really for work.

"I'm heading out. I'll be back this weekend," Lionel said.

He paused at the door.

He hesitated for a moment, then turned back and kissed my forehead.

His lips were cold.

"Yeah, take care on the road," I replied.

The door closed behind him.

I waited until the elevator had gone, then walked out onto the balcony.

Down below, he was stuffing his suitcase into the trunk.

Someone was already sitting in the passenger seat, wearing a creamy cashmere coat.

I recognized that coat.

She wore it to the company party.

It was Julia.

She didn't even bother to switch cars. She just slid right into the seat I usually take.

I stood on the seventeenth-floor balcony, watching Lionel's car pull out of the complex.

The winter wind rushed in, making my pajamas flap noisily.

It was cold.

But only one thought echoed in my mind.

It was time to act.

That afternoon, after Lionel left for his trip, I took half a day off.

I headed to the apartment on the east side of the city and signed a one-year lease.

When I got the keys, sunlight flooded the empty living room.

I stood there for a moment.

There was no scent of soup, no clothes that smelled like flowers, no receipts hidden in pockets.

There was nothing.

It was so spotless, it almost made me want to cry.

But I couldn't afford to cry right now.

I flipped open my laptop and got to work on the second task.

In the hotel records Randall sent me, there was one key detail: the last four digits of the credit card used every time.

I compared them.

The three stays were all paid with the same card.

The last four digits? 7813.

Lionel's personal credit card ended with 2056. I'd paid off his bills so many times, I could recite it in my sleep.

7813 belonged to the company's corporate card.

The monthly statements for the business card always went straight to the finance department's email.

And the company's CFO was Hector's man.

That meant Hector not only knew about these expenses, he even helped disguise the whole thing, making Lionel and Julia's getaway look like a legit business trip.

Hector and Lionel were skimming off company funds together.

One played the front, the other handled the money, and it was all coming out of the pockets of every shareholder.

Joseph and Troy, the two small shareholders, had no clue how much their yearly dividends were getting eaten away.

I opened my inbox and drafted a new email.

I started with [To: Joseph Bailey, Troy Cox.]

I typed out the subject, erased them and tried again.

Then I deleted it again.

There was no rush.

The timing wasn't right yet.

Lionel was in Artonwood, with great reception. He could instantly see anything posted in the shareholders' chat.

I needed to wait for an opening when he wouldn't be able to respond right away.

I closed my laptop and got started on the third task.

Emilia had arranged for me to meet with Agatha Roberts, a lawyer who specialized in divorce and asset division cases.

Her office was on the thirty-second floor of a west-side office building. As soon as I walked in, I saw a wall lined with client thank-you banners and plaques.

I spread out all the documents in front of her.

There were photos of plane tickets, frequent flyer miles redemption records, hotel stay PDFs, company registration documents, and that infamous $5,000 shopping receipt.

Agatha spent ten minutes going through everything.

She took off her glasses and looked at me.

"Ms. Cooper, you've prepared more thoroughly than most lawyers in the business," she said.

"I work in travel. Tracking itineraries is what I do for a living," I replied.

She gave a small smile, then her expression turned serious. "But there's a problem with this evidence."

"What problem?"

"The hotel records and credit card charges can prove they've had an ongoing relationship, but legally, that's not enough to establish cohabitation. You need hard evidence," she explained.

I thought for a moment. "What if I can prove he's been transferring our marital assets?"

Agatha's eyes lit up. "You mean that newly registered IT company?"

"Yeah. The registered capital is 3 million dollars. If I can prove the paid-in capital came from the main company or his personal account, that would constitute transferring marital assets," I said.

"Have you already checked?" Agatha asked.

Chapter 4

"Sure," I replied.

"By the way, the water purifier at home needs a new filter. I already placed the order, it'll be delivered on Thursday," Lionel said.

"Got it."

He glanced at me, his expression carrying a subtle hint of scrutiny. "Why have you been so quiet lately?"

"I'm just tired."

"Work's been busy?"

"Yeah."

He let it go.

I stayed quiet too.

We sat across from each other at the table, like two gears that seemed to mesh, but had long since slipped out of alignment.

*****

At six in the morning on Wednesday, Lionel's alarm went off.

He got up, freshened up, and slipped into a dark blue suit.

His suitcase, a 28-inch black Samsonite, had been packed the night before.

I remember that suitcase.

He told me he bought it for a business trip last year.

Now I realized it was never really for work.

"I'm heading out. I'll be back this weekend," Lionel said.

He paused at the door.

He hesitated for a moment, then turned back and kissed my forehead.

His lips were cold.

"Yeah, take care on the road," I replied.

The door closed behind him.

I waited until the elevator had gone, then walked out onto the balcony.

Down below, he was stuffing his suitcase into the trunk.

Someone was already sitting in the passenger seat, wearing a creamy cashmere coat.

I recognized that coat.

She wore it to the company party.

It was Julia.

She didn't even bother to switch cars. She just slid right into the seat I usually take.

I stood on the seventeenth-floor balcony, watching Lionel's car pull out of the complex.

The winter wind rushed in, making my pajamas flap noisily.

It was cold.

But only one thought echoed in my mind.

It was time to act.

That afternoon, after Lionel left for his trip, I took half a day off.

I headed to the apartment on the east side of the city and signed a one-year lease.

When I got the keys, sunlight flooded the empty living room.

I stood there for a moment.

There was no scent of soup, no clothes that smelled like flowers, no receipts hidden in pockets.

There was nothing.

It was so spotless, it almost made me want to cry.

But I couldn't afford to cry right now.

I flipped open my laptop and got to work on the second task.

In the hotel records Randall sent me, there was one key detail: the last four digits of the credit card used every time.

I compared them.

The three stays were all paid with the same card.

The last four digits? 7813.

Lionel's personal credit card ended with 2056. I'd paid off his bills so many times, I could recite it in my sleep.

7813 belonged to the company's corporate card.

The monthly statements for the business card always went straight to the finance department's email.

And the company's CFO was Hector's man.

That meant Hector not only knew about these expenses, he even helped disguise the whole thing, making Lionel and Julia's getaway look like a legit business trip.

Hector and Lionel were skimming off company funds together.

One played the front, the other handled the money, and it was all coming out of the pockets of every shareholder.

Joseph and Troy, the two small shareholders, had no clue how much their yearly dividends were getting eaten away.

I opened my inbox and drafted a new email.

I started with [To: Joseph Bailey, Troy Cox.]

I typed out the subject, erased them and tried again.

Then I deleted it again.

There was no rush.

The timing wasn't right yet.

Lionel was in Artonwood, with great reception. He could instantly see anything posted in the shareholders' chat.

I needed to wait for an opening when he wouldn't be able to respond right away.

I closed my laptop and got started on the third task.

Emilia had arranged for me to meet with Agatha Roberts, a lawyer who specialized in divorce and asset division cases.

Her office was on the thirty-second floor of a west-side office building. As soon as I walked in, I saw a wall lined with client thank-you banners and plaques.

I spread out all the documents in front of her.

There were photos of plane tickets, frequent flyer miles redemption records, hotel stay PDFs, company registration documents, and that infamous $5,000 shopping receipt.

Agatha spent ten minutes going through everything.

She took off her glasses and looked at me.

"Ms. Cooper, you've prepared more thoroughly than most lawyers in the business," she said.

"I work in travel. Tracking itineraries is what I do for a living," I replied.

She gave a small smile, then her expression turned serious. "But there's a problem with this evidence."

"What problem?"

"The hotel records and credit card charges can prove they've had an ongoing relationship, but legally, that's not enough to establish cohabitation. You need hard evidence," she explained.

I thought for a moment. "What if I can prove he's been transferring our marital assets?"

Agatha's eyes lit up. "You mean that newly registered IT company?"

"Yeah. The registered capital is 3 million dollars. If I can prove the paid-in capital came from the main company or his personal account, that would constitute transferring marital assets," I said.

"Have you already checked?" Agatha asked.