Chapter 2

On Saturday, Tanner said he'd take Donna to the amusement park.

They came back at four in the afternoon, and Donna ran straight into my arms, her head drenched in sweat.

"Mommy! We had so much fun today," she exclaimed.

I wiped her face, and she suddenly leaned in close to my ear. "Mommy, Daddy's car smelled really nice."

"What kind of smell?" I asked.

"It was sweet. Not like how you smell," she replied.

A five-year-old might not know different perfume brands, but she could tell it wasn't mine.

I didn't ask any more questions.

That night, while Tanner was in the shower, I picked up his phone.

The password was still the same, Donna's birthday.

At the top of his WhatsApp contacts was someone named "Miss Shaw."

The chat history had been deleted. But he'd forgotten to delete his payment records.

I scrolled through them one by one.

He sent flowers once a week. Desserts from a high-end dessert shop, two or three times a week.

He paid the management fees for a luxury apartment in Peace Avenue. It was 16 hundred dollars a month.

I scrolled through his bank app. Eight months ago, he'd sent 160 thousand dollars, with the note "house payment."

The money went to Yumi Shaw.

160 thousand dollars. When we got married, the wedding ring he got me was just one thousand dollars.

He said it was pointless to waste money on things like that.

I closed the app and put his phone back where it was.

The shower was still running, and Tanner Deleon was humming a tune. He hadn't hummed at home in a long time.

I sat on the edge of the bed, counting on my fingers as I worked out the numbers.

Flowers, about 70 dollars a bouquet, came to roughly 3 thousand dollars a year.

Desserts, around 25 dollars each, added up to about 4 thousand dollars a year.

The apartment management fees were nearly 20 thousand dollars a year.

And then there was that 160 thousand dollars for the "house payment."

In just eight months, he'd spent at least 200 thousand dollars. All of it was our marital savings.

I made sure we never spent more than a thousand dollars a month on groceries.

I only bought Donna's clothes during seasonal sales.

When our couch sagged, I stuffed it with old clothes and kept using it.

All the money I saved, Tanner spent buying someone else a house.

The bathroom door opened, and Tanner walked out, drying his hair.

"Is Donna asleep?" he asked.

"She is," I replied.

"Alright," he said. Then he lay down with his back to me.

Three minutes later, he started snoring.

I stared at his back for what felt like ages. Yumi. The apartment in Peace Avenue. 160 thousand dollars.

I opened the nightstand drawer and saved all those screenshots to an encrypted album.

The password wasn't Donna's birthday.

The Deleon family's monthly dinner was a rock-solid tradition.

I tied on my apron and stayed busy in the kitchen for two hours.

By the time I brought out four dishes and a soup, Tanner's older sister, Margaret, was already in the living room, munching on sunflower seeds.

Mira sat at the head of the table, not sparing the food a single glance. She said, "Emily, have a seat."

I took off my apron and settled into the most out-of-the-way seat.

"Tanner said you still haven't signed the agreement?" Margaret said, picking up some food with a smirk. "Honestly, you're just a stay-at-home mom. Why are you hesitating?"

Mira jumped in, "Exactly. Tanner's giving you 30 thousand dollars. That's more than generous. Ask anyone, nannies only make about 2 thousand dollars a month these days."

Nanny. Six years, and she finally said it.

"Emily, don't feel bad," Margaret added, putting down her fork and looking at me seriously. "Think about it.

"Tanner's out there working his butt off to make money, and you're just at home taking care of a kid. Honestly, anyone could do that."

Donna sat beside me, picked up on the awkward vibe, and tugged at my sleeve.

I grabbed a pizza and set it in her bowl.

"Just eat and sign the papers," Mira said, taking a sip of soup. "If you take this to court, what do you think you'll get? What do you even have in your name?"

Tanner didn't say a word. He sat next to Mira, head down, eating as if he wasn't even involved.

I glanced at him. He wasn't always like this.

During our first year of marriage, he'd pick up roses on his way home from work because I told him I liked them.

The second year, when Donna was born, he cried harder than I did outside the delivery room.

The third year, he started traveling for work.

The fourth year, he was away more and more.

The fifth year, the roses stopped coming, and so did dinner.

The sixth year, he didn't even bother to say "thanks for all you do" anymore.

"Enough, let's eat," Tanner finally said, sounding impatient. "Just give her some time to think."

"What's there to think about?" Mira shot back, setting down her fork. "Seriously, Tanner, you always let her get away with everything."

The table fell silent for a few seconds.

I stood up, picked the fish bones out of Donna's bowl, then grabbed my phone.

I opened my expense tracker app.

Six years, it was not short, and it was not long.

Each entry had a date, an amount, a category. Some even had photos of the receipts.

The grand total was 630 thousand dollars.

630 thousand dollars. All the money I handled, never got a single cent back.

I locked my phone, making sure no one saw. Not yet.