Chapter 6
That afternoon, Elena called. "Olivia, I found something. Sit tight."
My heart skipped a beat. "Go on."
Elena's voice was cold. "Edward's moved three large sums out of your joint account in the past six months.
"The first was 250,000 dollars, all sent to a shell company called Riverfront Property Management. The next two were 300,000 and 200,000 dollars, all going to the same recipient.
"I had someone pull the company's registration records. Guess who the registered agent is?"
"Who?"
"Diana Price."
My fingers tightened around my phone.
"And that's not all. She used that money to rent a luxury apartment on Aurelia Promenade in the Upper Echelon District.
"The rent is 23,000 dollars a month, and she signed a two-year lease. She paid 180,000 dollars upfront for the deposit and prepaid rent.
"As for the rest, I checked her spending and found it went toward luxury goods, vacations, and a premium package at a private maternity clinic. Edward's been keeping her living the high life."
I closed my eyes.
From last fall to this spring, Edward and I had faced financial stress. We'd even canceled our vacation plans to Sunvale because of it.
He'd said the company was having cash‑flow issues and told me not to book the plane tickets for the time being.
I'd done as he asked, and even skipped buying a new coat for Christmas.
Turned out, all the money I scrimped and saved had been funneled straight into Diana's account.
"Anything else?" My voice came out dry.
"Yeah," Elena replied. "I've been looking into Diana. She's twenty-seven, born and raised in Newcheston. Her mom's a retired nurse, and no one knows who her dad is."
She paused. "Her work history over the past few years is rather interesting. She used to work as a receptionist at a venture capital firm, the same firm that had dealings with the investors backing Edward's company.
"Three months after she left that job, she started popping up in Edward's social circle."
"You mean..."
"I mean nothing; I'm simply laying out the facts for you. And I recommend you file for asset preservation as soon as possible.
"Edward has no idea you've uncovered all this and probably still thinks you're a devastated wife, ready to accept whatever deal he throws at you.
"But once he realizes you've got me involved, he'll try to hide or transfer whatever's left. We need to move faster than him."
"Alright. Do it right now."
After hanging up, I stood by the kitchen window, staring out at the gray sky.
The glass facade of the building across the street caught the slow-moving shadows of the clouds, like some giant beast lurking beneath the surface.
My fingers were still trembling slightly, yet not from fear. It was the sharp, cold clarity left behind by rage.
Edward probably thought I'd be sobbing, pathetically begging him to come back, like every other betrayed wife.
So his text sounded so sure‑footed, dripping with that condescending "I'm doing this for your own good" attitude.
He had no idea I had quietly hired a lawyer, gotten hold of his transfer records, and was slowly looping the noose around his neck.
Just then, my phone buzzed again. It was a text from an unknown number.
It read: [Hi, Olivia, it's Diana. I'm sorry for what happened at the hospital. I honestly didn't know about Mr. Stone's family situation.
[But feelings can't be controlled, you know? I hope you can understand. If you're willing, maybe we could sit down and talk. I don't want anyone getting hurt because of me.]
I stared for a long time at the little smiley emoji at the end of the message.
I did not reply. Instead, I set my phone down and sent a screenshot of that text to Elena.
She replied with a thumbs-up emoji: [First provocation. Save it.]
The following week, I lived as if I were fighting a war.
I worked at the gallery during the day, met up with Elena over my lunch break, and sorted through evidence at night after Lila had fallen asleep.
Elena's investigation kept digging deeper. Besides the money funneled to Diana, she also uncovered that Edward had set up an offshore company last November, with an account in the Coral Isles holding about 400,000 dollars.
It was exactly two months after I'd had the miscarriage.
"He was covering all his bases," Elena said, sliding the stack of papers across the table. "If the marriage survived, that money was his rainy day fund. If it crashed, it was more of your joint assets he'd stashed away."
I stared at those cold, hard numbers, and the once‑soft part inside me had frozen over completely.
I'd slept beside Edward for seven years. When did he start plotting his exit, and how did I miss all the signs?
I thought we were merely stuck in a tired phase of marriage, but he was already halfway out the door, bags packed.
"Olivia," Elena said, adjusting her glasses, "we've got enough evidence to freeze the assets. Are you sure you want to go through with this? Once we start, it's official, no turning back."
"I'm sure." I met her gaze. "I'm done waiting."
Elena nodded and started organizing the documents.
As if something suddenly occurred to her, she looked up at me. "By the way, has Edward tried to get in touch with Lila lately?"
My heart skipped a beat.
Lila was still in the dark about all this.
I told her Edward was off on a business trip. She bought it.
Sometimes she'd ask, "When's Dad coming home?" And I'd say, "Soon."
Every time I said those words, it felt like a clump of sand was stuck in my throat.
"Not yet," I said, "but it's only a matter of time. He's not going to give up custody of Lila, at least not completely. He wants to keep up that 'good dad' act."
"Are you ready?" Elena asked.