Chapter 6

"No need. Sophia and the baby are still here," Elaine said.

She sounded thoughtful, but her hand stayed tight on her bag, and she just stood there.

David glanced at me. "She's upset today. I'll take her home. You can ride with your parents."

"She drove here herself," I said.

Elaine explained, "I had a drink earlier."

The party only served fruit wine with low alcohol content. I didn't see how much she drank, but David had already decided.

"I'll drop her off and come right back," he said.

He took the car keys from me, just like he always did, making sure I was taken care of before going to look after her.

I didn't argue.

"The baby's car seat is in the car," I said.

"I'll have the driver take you," David replied.

"Whatever," I said.

David noticed something was off in my tone and looked like he wanted to say something, but Elaine gave his sleeve a gentle tug.

"David, you don't need to see me off," she said.

He looked down at her pale face. "Let's go."

The two of them left the hotel together.

I stood in the lobby, holding Max, watching the automatic doors close. Outside, David opened the passenger door for her and bent down to make sure she didn't bump her head getting in.

That car was bought after I got pregnant.

Our old sedan was too cramped to fit a stroller and a car seat. I spent ages picking it out, finally settling on one with plenty of room in the back.

Max's first ride in it was when we brought him home from the hospital.

But Elaine's very first time in that car, she was sitting up front.

The hotel manager came over with the bill, breaking my train of thought.

"Ms. Bennett, there's still a balance for the party that needs to be settled today," he said.

I pulled out my phone and opened our joint account.

The balance was missing more than 80 thousand dollars compared to what I expected.

I thought I must've misread it, so I refreshed the page.

There was only 11,500 dollars left in the account.

The balance for the baptism was 19,000 dollars.

The manager stood there waiting, but my finger just hovered over the screen, unable to move.

This was our joint account, the one David and I used for all our family expenses after we got married. We both put money in every month. After I got pregnant and stopped working, he covered most of the daily bills.

Before Max was born, my parents sent over 100,000 thousand dollars as a gift for his full-month celebration, telling us to use it for insurance or save it for his education.

Two days ago, I checked the balance.

There was still 93,000 thousand dollars in there.

I tapped on the transaction history.

The most recent transfer was made yesterday afternoon.

80,000 dollars, sent straight to Elaine's account.

The memo was just two words: "Housing mortgage."

I stared at that entry, the sounds around me fading into the background. Max squirmed in my arms, and I instinctively supported his neck. Only then did I realize my arm had gone completely numb.

The manager asked carefully, "Ms. Bennett, is there a problem with the payment?"

I logged out of the joint account and used my own card to pay off the balance.

When I signed, the pen left a long streak of ink across the page.

My mom walked over, her brows furrowed at the amount. "Why are you using your own card? Wasn't David supposed to pay?"

"He went to drop Elaine off," I replied.

"He's taking her home again?" my mom said.

I didn't answer, just tucked the bill away.

By the time we got home, it was already 9 PM.

David still wasn't back.

The nanny had the day off, and the living room was piled high with unopened gifts from the baptism. I put Max in his crib, changed his diaper, rinsed out the bottles, and then took off the dress I'd worn to the ceremony.

I set the lily brooch on the bathroom counter.

The pin pricked my finger, and a tiny drop of blood welled up.

At 10:30, the door finally unlocked.

David walked in, reeking of alcohol. He noticed the living room was dark, so he went to check on Max in the nursery first. When he came out, he finally saw me sitting at the dining table.

"Why aren't the lights on?" he asked.

I slid my phone across the table to him.

The screen was frozen on the 80,000 dollars transfer.

"What's this 'housing mortgage'?" I asked.

David froze, halfway through taking off his coat.

He barely glanced at the screen before looking away.