Chapter 4

A house worth 3 million.

A car worth 170 thousand.

A monthly living expense of around 10 thousand.

How much did all that add up to?

At least 3 million. Probably much more.

And me?

I lived in a cramped rental that cost 1 thousand a month.

I drove a ten-year-old second-hand Santana.

If I bought a piece of clothing for 30 bucks, Peter would complain endlessly.

The priciest thing he ever got me was a hairpin for 20 bucks.

20 bucks—that was all I ever meant to him.

I suddenly remembered something.

Last year, on my birthday, I asked him for a scarf.

It wasn't expensive, just over 70 bucks.

He said, "It's not even that cold. Why do you need a scarf?"

I didn't say anything else.

Later, I bought a scarf myself on sale for 30 bucks.

That night, he sent Stella some cash.

The note read: [Happy birthday, baby.]

The amount was 6 thousand.

My measly 30 bucks.

Her whopping 6 thousand.

I closed my eyes and took several deep breaths.

I told myself to stay cool.

I couldn't afford to be impulsive. Not now.

I needed more evidence.

I needed to make sure Peter walked away with absolutely nothing.

On Monday, Peter came back from his so-called "business trip."

When he walked in, he was carrying a bag.

I asked, "What did you buy?"

He said, "It's a Lego set for Jack, from a friend."

I took it and glanced at it.

It was worth 400 bucks.

Then I remembered that chat: [Remember to buy the Lego set for Leo today.]

So he'd bought two sets: one for their kid, one for our son, so I wouldn't suspect a thing.

"That's nice," I said, handing the Lego set to Jack. I said to Jack, "Go play."

Jack was over the moon, clutching the box and dashing off to his room.

Peter sank into the couch and started scrolling on his phone.

I glanced at him and asked, "Was your trip exhausting?"

"It was alright," he replied.

"What was your hotel like?" I asked.

"Nothing special, just a regular hotel," he said.

A 3-million, 1,800-square-foot house. Was that supposed to be a regular hotel?

I didn't say anything else.

I headed to the kitchen and started cooking.

While I was cooking, I couldn't stop thinking about one thing: where did Peter get all that money?

His monthly salary was only 4 thousand.

Even if he saved every penny, after ten years, he'd only have around 400 thousand.

How could he possibly afford a 3-million-dollar house?

Unless his salary was just what showed up on paper.

He probably had some side hustle I didn't know about.

Or was it Stella's money propping him up?'

But Stella didn't even have a job. All her chats were just her begging for living expenses.

So where was all that money coming from?

I needed to look into his bank records.

But I didn't know the password for his card.

I only knew about our "shared account," and there was never more than 30 thousand in it.

After thinking it over, I decided to approach it from a different angle.

Peter's parents, Alex and Nancy Thomas, still lived in their old hometown, a small town.

Alex was a department head at the local construction bureau before he retired, and Nancy worked at the bank.

Peter was an only child.

His folks probably knew a thing or two.

Over the weekend, I took Jack to visit Alex and Nancy.

Nancy was really glad to see us, and she was busy in the kitchen, fixing food for everyone.

Alex sat in the living room, watching TV, barely saying anything.

Over dinner, I casually asked, "Alex, Nancy, Peter's been super busy with work lately, always on business trips. Do you guys know what he's actually doing?"

Nancy froze for a moment and glanced at Alex.

Alex put down his fork and said, "Honestly, we don't really know what he's up to either."

I noticed the look they shared.

They were silently passing some message between them.

I smiled and said, "Just curious, since he's always away on business trips. I'm a bit worried."

Nancy let out a dry laugh and said, "Men just care about their work. That's normal."

I dropped it.

I already had my answer.

They knew all along.

After dinner, I used the excuse of taking Jack out to play, so they'd stay in the living room.

I headed to Nancy and Alex's bedroom door and saw it was slightly ajar.

I could hear Nancy talking inside.

Nancy asked, "Do you think she's found out about the other family?"

Alex replied, "I doubt it. Peter's been pretty good at keeping it under wraps."

Nancy said, "That kid's already six. We can't keep them apart forever, can we?"

Alex replied, "Let's deal with it later. No need to stir up trouble now."

I stood there, frozen in place.