Chapter 2
The next day was Saturday.
Mike Quinn said something had come up at work, so he had to put in some extra hours.
I kept quiet, fried up two eggs for him, and watched as he headed out the door.
As soon as he left, I fired up my laptop.
I had never been the kind of woman who got paranoid. We had been married five years, and I never once asked for his phone password. But now, everything had changed.
It was 380 thousand. That number was like a thorn, stabbing at my heart.
I opened up his payment app and logged into his account.
I knew the password. He'd given it to me once when he needed me to pay the water and electricity bills.
I got in.
First thing, I checked his bills.
They pretty much lined up with his bank records. Most of his money came from his salary and some profits from another business.
As for what he spent it on, my eyes landed on one particular transaction. [Kaurum, for 3,200 dollars.]
It was three months ago, on his birthday.
I remembered it clearly. That night, I cooked up a whole feast for him and even bought a cake. He told me, "Don't waste money. Let's just stay home and celebrate."
But it turned out that he had secretly spent 3,200 dollars on something.
I kept scrolling. [Maisoan, for 10 thousand dollars. Nouvelle, for 1,500 dollars. Cerulean, for 2,800 dollars."
In just three months, he'd blown over 14 thousand dollars on jewelry and luxury goods alone.
But what about me?
The only thing he gave me this year was a bouquet of flowers for my birthday. I saw the receipt myself. It was just 30 bucks.
"Flowers are all the same. No point wasting money on expensive ones," he said.
At the time, I actually believed him.
But thinking about it now, I realized he just didn't think I was worth spending money on.
I logged out of his payment app, took a moment to think, then opened up his food delivery app.
I had his account, too.
Once I was in, I checked his order history.
The most recent one was from three days ago, a takeout delivery. The delivery address wasn't our home.
It was an address I'd never seen before—Room 2301, Unit 1, Building 18, SoleilRive House.
I was stunned for a moment. I kept scrolling.
In the past three months, he'd sent 47 takeout orders to that address. As for our place, there was zero. Because I made meals for him every day.
I always figured he had lunch at work and ate my cooking at night.
It turned out that he didn't. He was having lunch at another woman's place.
I pulled out my phone, opened up the map app, and searched for SoleilRive House.
It was only 4 miles away from his office and 7.5 miles from our home. If he were heading there for lunch, it'd take him at least an hour just for the commute.
How did he even get that much time for lunch? Unless he wasn't just going there for lunch.
I made a note of the address and kept digging.
Then I logged into his online shopping account.
His account had a list of delivery addresses.
Our home address was at the top. Right below it was Room 2301, Unit 1, Building 18, SoleilRive House. The package was for Elizabeth.
I felt my hands trembling. It turned out that Elizabeth lived there. That was the apartment he paid a 100-thousand down payment for.
He bought her a home. He was sending her 5 thousand a month for living expenses. He was getting takeout delivered to her apartment.
All the jewelry and luxury goods he bought ended up at her address.
And as his wife, I'd never even laid eyes on his salary account.
I leaned back in my chair, my eyes stinging.
After five years of marriage, I really thought I'd ended up with a straight-laced guy.
He never touched alcohol, never smoked, never gambled. He always clocked out and came straight home. He never picked a fight with me.
I thought I hit the jackpot. But I was just an idiot after all.
He didn't drink, smoke, or gamble, not because he was disciplined, but because all his money was going somewhere else.
He always made it home on time, but that was because he'd already been with her at lunch.
He never argued with me because he simply didn't give a damn.
I looked down at myself.
The pajamas I had on had been around for three years, cost just 20 bucks, and were already getting worn out and fuzzy.
My fluffy slippers were ordered online for 6 bucks, shipping included.
I suddenly remembered something.
Last winter was freezing, and I wanted to get myself a cashmere scarf.
I wandered around the mall for ages, but the cheapest one I could find was still at least 150 dollars.
In the end, I settled for a fake cashmere one for 15 bucks.
When I got home, Mike glanced at it and said, "Looks nice."
I was actually pretty happy about it at the time.
But now, thinking about it, he probably never even saw what real cashmere looked like.
Because all the real cashmere ended up around Elizabeth's neck.
I got up, headed to the bedroom, and opened my closet.
My T-shirts and dresses were all dirt cheap. The priciest thing in there was a down jacket I bought last winter for 100 dollars.
Then I opened his closet.
His shirts were outdated, his down jacket was from three years ago, and the suit was the one from our wedding day.
He seemed just as thrifty as I.
But now I knew the truth.
All the nice things he owned weren't kept at home.
I pulled out my phone and checked the address again. It was Room 2301, Unit 1, Building 18, SoleilRive House. I had to go see it for myself.
*****
At two in the afternoon, I took a cab to the entrance of SoleilRive House.
I'd never been here before, and I'd never even heard of this place.
It looked like one of those mid-to-high-end complexes, with a security guard at the gate. One needed a key card or had to sign in to get in.
I waited at the entrance for a while, then followed a woman with her kid inside.
The security guard glanced at me but didn't say anything.
I walked up to Building 18 and looked up.
It was the 23rd floor. When the elevator came, I hit the button for the 23rd.
When I stood in the elevator, my heart started racing. I really had no clue what I was supposed to do. Should I knock? Then what? I hadn't figured it out.
When the elevator hit the 23rd floor, I stepped out and found 2301.
The door was closed, and it was quiet inside.
I waited at the door for a minute, then hit the doorbell.
No one answered.
I pressed it again.
There was still nothing.
Maybe she wasn't home.
Just as I was about to turn and leave, I heard footsteps in the hallway.
A woman stepped out of the elevator.
She looked to be in her late twenties, with long hair, wearing an off-white coat and a scarf wrapped around her neck.
That scarf was cashmere.
I knew it instantly. It was the same cashmere scarf I'd seen at the mall before, the one that costs 1,600 bucks.
She was carrying two shopping bags: one was a grocery bag from Onerain House, and the other was a Cerulean bag.
She came over, stopped right in front of Room 2301, and fished her keys out of her purse.
"Who are you looking for?" she asked, turning to face me.
I tried to speak, but nothing came out.
She wasn't exactly stunning, but she looked young, her skin was delicate, and her lips had a touch of light lipstick.
"Are you Elizabeth?" I asked.
She looked taken aback. "Who are you?"
"I'm Mike's wife," I said.
Her expression shifted in an instant. Her keys slipped right out of her hand and hit the floor with a crisp jingle.