Chapter 2

Ethan hadn’t forgotten to tell me about the trip.

He had been hiding it for three months.

I learned that when I took the checklist from his hand and saw a date printed in the corner.

September 18.

“You booked this in September?”

His eyes dropped to the page. “We only started discussing it then.”

“We?”

“Vanessa and I. Mostly about the kids.”

Three months ago, I had been sitting beside Ethan at this same kitchen island, suggesting a weekend away for our anniversary. He had told me money was too tight.

Now I knew why.

“How much have you already spent?”

“The number on my phone is the remaining balance.”

“That wasn’t what I asked.”

Ethan reached for his coffee. I picked up his phone first.

The Alpine Holiday Services confirmation was still open. Four lift passes. Equipment rentals. A private shuttle from Vancouver. Christmas dinner prepared at the cabin.

Paid to date: CAD $10,280.

Every payment had come from our joint credit card.

“You spent over ten thousand dollars without telling me?”

“It’s our card.”

“Which I pay every month.”

“You earn more than I do, Madison. That doesn’t make every dollar yours.”

No. It only made every expense my responsibility.

I opened the attached itinerary.

Vanessa Cole—primary bedroom.

Ethan Blake—primary bedroom.

My thumb stopped on the screen.

“You’re sharing a room with her?”

“It’s a suite. There’s a sofa bed.”

“Who is sleeping on it?”

He looked away. “We haven’t decided.”

I kept reading.

Lily had the upstairs bedroom. Noah had the loft. My office was listed as luggage storage and content equipment.

“Content equipment?”

“Vanessa needs space for her cameras.”

The room where I worked during weekends—the room containing my monitor, contracts, and the framed photograph of my mother—had been assigned to his ex-wife’s social media equipment.

“You planned where everyone would sleep,” I said. “You planned where she would film. But you never planned a place for me.”

“You weren’t coming.”

“You never asked.”

“We’ve already been over this.”

“No, Ethan. You explained why excluding me was convenient. That isn’t the same thing.”

I opened our banking app.

The holiday charges were there, scattered across three months beneath groceries and utility bills. Each was small enough to escape my attention while I managed the product launch.

Then I saw another transfer.

CAD $3,000 to Vanessa Cole.

Memo: Car repair.

“What is this?”

Ethan’s shoulders tightened. “Her car needed a new transmission.”

“So you paid for it?”

“She drives the kids.”

“You used our account.”

“She needed help.”

“Did she ask you, or did you offer?”

His hesitation answered me again.

“If her car broke down, it affected Lily and Noah,” he said. “I handled it.”

Handled it. The same word he used when I paid the property taxes or replaced the cabin furnace.

I checked the date.

The transfer had gone out the morning after Ethan told me we couldn’t afford an anniversary trip.

A notification appeared at the top of his phone.

Lily: Did you tell her?

Before Ethan could stop me, I tapped it.

A group chat opened.

BLAKE FAMILY CHRISTMAS

The photograph showed Ethan, Vanessa, Lily, and Noah at last year’s school concert. Weeks of messages followed—meal plans, room assignments, matching pajamas, photographs Vanessa wanted beside my fireplace.

At the bottom was a gray system notice.

Madison Blake was removed from the conversation.

The date was September 19.

They hadn’t forgotten to include me.

They had deliberately removed me.