Chapter 2 · The Wife Strikes Back

The next day, I went to see Julia again.

This time, I brought three things with me.

A picture of the silk scarf receipt.

Screenshots of the chat with [Mr. Warren.]

And a copy of Ethan's credit card statements from the past three months. While he was sleeping, I used his fingerprint to unlock his phone and pulled up his bank app.

Julia looked over the statements and then glanced up at me. "Seven times in three months, all at the same hotel, Silvercrest Hotel over on the east side."

"Yeah, I noticed," I replied.

"Do you know who this woman is?"

I pulled up the selfie and showed it to her. "I don't know her, but I checked his company's website. There's a new design assistant named Sophie Miles, and the photo looks exactly like her."

Julia took my phone and looked at the photo closely. "How old is she?"

"Her profile says she was born in 1997, so she's twenty-seven this year."

"She works at his company? That's so cliché."

I managed a smile, but it never touched my eyes. "Julia, can you help me draft a divorce petition?"

Julia looked at me. "Are you sure? Don't want to keep an eye on things a bit longer?"

"What's the point? I've seen all I need to."

"What about the kid?"

I fell silent.

Mia was four years old, my little shadow, she stuck to me like glue.

That's the hardest part for me to let go.

"About the kid, I'll think it over," I said.

Julia squeezed my hand. "Take your time. Just start gathering everything you can. The more evidence you have, the stronger your case will be."

From that day on, I kept up the act, nothing seemed different on the outside.

I cooked, dropped Mia off and picked her up, and took care of the housework like always.

But every night, once Ethan was asleep, I'd sneak a look at his phone.

It took me three days to go through all their chats, I took screenshots and saved every single message between him and Sophie.

From their very first flirty text to the latest time they booked a hotel room, I didn't miss a single one.

They'd been seeing each other for at least half a year.

Way longer than I ever imagined.

Some of those messages made my hands shake.

Sophie asked him: [When are you going to divorce her?]

Ethan replied: [Just wait. She doesn't have a job, and the kid's still little. There's no rush.]

Sophie said: [I'll wait for you.]

Ethan sent her a hug emoji.

I thought, '"Just wait."

'That's what he meant by "just wait."

'Wait for what? For Mia to get older? For him to clean out the accounts?

Or for me to end up with nothing, tossed aside and powerless?'

I set the phone down, just listening to his breathing.

This man had shared my bed for six years.

I'd washed countless shirts for him, shielded him from endless family drama, and given up my job and my friends for him.

And all I got in return was, "Just wait."

In the second week, I finally made a move.

I dug out my laptop, the one I'd packed away and hadn't touched in four years.

All my design drafts from college and my old job were still right where I'd left them.

I used to be an interior designer.

Not just your average designer, my second year out of college, I took home the silver in a state-level home design contest. My mentor always said I had real talent, that the sky was the limit if I kept at it.

But then I married Ethan.

He told me he'd take care of everything, so I could just focus on raising our kid.

I believed him.

When I fired up the design software, my hands felt a little stiff at first.

But as soon as those lines started appearing on the screen, that old feeling came rushing back.

It was like something inside me that had been asleep for years was finally waking up.

I spent the whole day putting together a new portfolio.

Then I created a profile on a design site.

My username was "Star."

No one knew who Star really was.

And nobody knew that the mom who spent her days cooking and caring for her child was still up at eleven, tucked in the corner of the living room, drawing designs on her laptop.

Julia called me. "Claire, I found something out. You might want to sit down for this."

"Go ahead," I replied.

"Ethan opened a new brokerage account last month and transferred about 167,000 dollars into it."

"167,000 dollars?"

"Yeah, he moved it from your joint savings account. Do you have any idea how much is left?"

"I think it was a little over 200,000 dollars at the end of last year."

"Now there's only 40,000 dollars left."

I leaned back in my chair.

A little over two hundred thousand dollars, down to just forty thousand.

Nearly 167 thousand dollars, gone, and he never said a word.

"He's moving assets," Julia said. "Claire, you need to speed things up."

"I know," I replied.

"One more thing. Has your father-in-law reached out to you lately?"

"No, why?"

"I heard Ethan's dad wants to transfer the demolition payout from their old house to Ethan. That's almost 667 thousand dollars."

"What does that have to do with me?"

"Think about it. If he waits until after he gets that money to divorce you, you'd be entitled to a share since it's marital property. But if he divorces you now..."

I got it.

He was racing against time.

I had to race against time, too.

Chapter 2

The next day, I went to see Julia again.

This time, I brought three things with me.

A picture of the silk scarf receipt.

Screenshots of the chat with [Mr. Warren.]

And a copy of Ethan's credit card statements from the past three months. While he was sleeping, I used his fingerprint to unlock his phone and pulled up his bank app.

Julia looked over the statements and then glanced up at me. "Seven times in three months, all at the same hotel, Silvercrest Hotel over on the east side."

"Yeah, I noticed," I replied.

"Do you know who this woman is?"

I pulled up the selfie and showed it to her. "I don't know her, but I checked his company's website. There's a new design assistant named Sophie Miles, and the photo looks exactly like her."

Julia took my phone and looked at the photo closely. "How old is she?"

"Her profile says she was born in 1997, so she's twenty-seven this year."

"She works at his company? That's so cliché."

I managed a smile, but it never touched my eyes. "Julia, can you help me draft a divorce petition?"

Julia looked at me. "Are you sure? Don't want to keep an eye on things a bit longer?"

"What's the point? I've seen all I need to."

"What about the kid?"

I fell silent.

Mia was four years old, my little shadow, she stuck to me like glue.

That's the hardest part for me to let go.

"About the kid, I'll think it over," I said.

Julia squeezed my hand. "Take your time. Just start gathering everything you can. The more evidence you have, the stronger your case will be."

From that day on, I kept up the act, nothing seemed different on the outside.

I cooked, dropped Mia off and picked her up, and took care of the housework like always.

But every night, once Ethan was asleep, I'd sneak a look at his phone.

It took me three days to go through all their chats, I took screenshots and saved every single message between him and Sophie.

From their very first flirty text to the latest time they booked a hotel room, I didn't miss a single one.

They'd been seeing each other for at least half a year.

Way longer than I ever imagined.

Some of those messages made my hands shake.

Sophie asked him: [When are you going to divorce her?]

Ethan replied: [Just wait. She doesn't have a job, and the kid's still little. There's no rush.]

Sophie said: [I'll wait for you.]

Ethan sent her a hug emoji.

I thought, '"Just wait."

'That's what he meant by "just wait."

'Wait for what? For Mia to get older? For him to clean out the accounts?

Or for me to end up with nothing, tossed aside and powerless?'

I set the phone down, just listening to his breathing.

This man had shared my bed for six years.

I'd washed countless shirts for him, shielded him from endless family drama, and given up my job and my friends for him.

And all I got in return was, "Just wait."

In the second week, I finally made a move.

I dug out my laptop, the one I'd packed away and hadn't touched in four years.

All my design drafts from college and my old job were still right where I'd left them.

I used to be an interior designer.

But then I married Ethan.

He told me he'd take care of everything, so I could just focus on raising our kid.

I believed him.

When I fired up the design software, my hands felt a little stiff at first.

But as soon as those lines started appearing on the screen, that old feeling came rushing back.

It was like something inside me that had been asleep for years was finally waking up.

I spent the whole day putting together a new portfolio.

Then I created a profile on a design site.

My username was "Star."

No one knew who Star really was.

And nobody knew that the mom who spent her days cooking and caring for her child was still up at eleven, tucked in the corner of the living room, drawing designs on her laptop.

Julia called me. "Claire, I found something out. You might want to sit down for this."

"Go ahead," I replied.

"Ethan opened a new brokerage account last month and transferred about 167,000 dollars into it."

"167,000 dollars?"

"Yeah, he moved it from your joint savings account. Do you have any idea how much is left?"

"I think it was a little over 200,000 dollars at the end of last year."

"Now there's only 40,000 dollars left."

I leaned back in my chair.

A little over two hundred thousand dollars, down to just forty thousand.

Nearly 167 thousand dollars, gone, and he never said a word.

"He's moving assets," Julia said. "Claire, you need to speed things up."

"I know," I replied.

"One more thing. Has your father-in-law reached out to you lately?"

"No, why?"

"I heard Ethan's dad wants to transfer the demolition payout from their old house to Ethan. That's almost 667 thousand dollars."

"What does that have to do with me?"

"Think about it. If he waits until after he gets that money to divorce you, you'd be entitled to a share since it's marital property. But if he divorces you now..."

I got it.

He was racing against time.

I had to race against time, too.