Chapter 1

At two in the morning, I heard my husband, David, on the balcony. He was on the phone. "Babe, that old witch is checking on me again. It’s so annoying. Once my project bonus comes in next month, I’ll buy you that bag."

But just three days ago, he had told me the bonus was canceled and asked me to cut back on spending.

I didn’t make a scene. Instead, I went to the bank the next day to see my best friend, Ashley.

When she printed out the financial statements, the truth stared me in the face.

He hadn’t just lied to me. He had also taken out over two hundred thousand dollars in shady online loans just to keep that woman happy.

When his mother found out, her first reaction was, "Well, men will wander. It’s normal."

A month later, in the bank's VIP room, I finished reading the very last line of the transaction history. I looked up at him.

"That project bonus you’re getting next month... is it even enough to cover this massive hole?"

It was 2:03 AM.

I heard the sound of a key sliding into the lock.

Our bedroom door wasn’t fully closed. A thin sliver of light from the hallway crept in through the crack.

My back was turned to the door. I stayed on my side, keeping my breathing slow and steady, pretending to be asleep.

David’s footsteps crossed the living room. Instead of coming into the bedroom, he went straight to the balcony.

He pulled the balcony door shut. The double-paned glass muffled his voice into a low hum.

I opened my eyes, staring at the shadow shifting on the curtains.

He was on the phone.

I quietly turned over and pressed my ear against the pillow. In the dead silence of the night, I could faintly make out a few words.

"Babe... I miss you too..."

My heart sank a little, but it didn’t completely break.

After all these years, this wasn't the first time he’d said things like this.

Whenever he drank too much and bragged with his friends, he’d say anything.

Just last month, at a dinner party, he told someone, "That old witch at home? I can't get rid of her even if I wanted to." I was sitting right next to him. I heard every word.

But I swallowed my pride.

I’m forty-two. What would a divorce even get me?

Our son just started middle school, which is a crucial time for him. David’s mother, Martha, is in poor health and constantly in and out of the hospital. If I leave, who’s going to take care of her?

I ran through all these excuses in my head, preparing to go back to sleep.

Then, I heard the next sentence.

"The old witch is checking up on me again. It’s so annoying."

"Don't worry. Once my project bonus comes in next month, I’ll buy you that designer bag."

My hands clenched into fists under the blanket.

Project bonus.

Next month.

Just two days ago, he told me the company was doing poorly. He said all quarterly bonuses, year-end bonuses, and project bonuses were canceled.

He told me to watch our budget. He asked me to hold off on our son's tutoring classes and said we shouldn't replace our five-year-old refrigerator just yet.

I believed him.

I even felt bad for him, telling him he worked too hard and that we didn't need to worry about money.

The balcony door slid open. Footsteps moved toward the bedroom.

I closed my eyes, adjusted my breathing, loosened my fists, and went back to my sleeping posture.

David walked in, smelling of cheap cologne, alcohol, and stale cigarettes.

He stood by the bed for a few seconds.

I could feel him looking at me.

Then he yawned and headed to the bathroom.

I opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling.

His words kept looping in my head. The bathroom door opened, David climbed into bed, and within two minutes, he was snoring loudly.

I kept my eyes open until dawn.

The next morning, I got up and made breakfast as usual.

David loves fresh bagels. Every weekend, I get up early to buy them from the bakery down the street.

He got up at 8:30, sat at the dining table in his pajamas, and took a bite of his bagel.

"It’s Saturday. Why did you get up so early?"

"Just used to it," I said, placing his coffee in front of him. "Is that project bonus from your company really completely canceled?"

His hand paused mid-air, then he kept chewing.

"Completely gone. Not a single penny. Finance said we’ll have to wait until next year to see."

"They didn't keep any of it?"

"What is that supposed to mean?" He slammed the bagel onto the table.

"I said it’s gone, so it’s gone! Are you auditing me now?"

Our son poked his head out of his room. "Dad, why are you yelling?"

David glared at me, grabbed his jacket, and walked out the door.

The door slammed shut with a loud bang.

My son looked at me. "Mom, what is Dad’s problem today?"

"Nothing," I said, taking his plate. "Finish up and go do your homework."

That afternoon, I went to the bank to see my best friend.

Ashley received me in the private VIP room. Seeing the look on my face, she asked, "What’s wrong, Vivian?"

"I need you to check something for me."

"What is it?"

"David’s transaction history."

Ashley froze for a second. She didn't ask why. She just turned on her computer.

Three minutes later, she stared at the screen, hesitating to speak.

"Just tell me," I said. "I can handle it."

She turned the monitor toward me.

For the past three months, the transaction history on David’s primary salary account was clean.

But there was another credit card—one I never knew existed. Its transaction history was packed.

Every Wednesday, a luxury hotel: $698.

Every Wednesday, a high-end restaurant: $488.

From the 15th to the 18th of last month, a trip to a nearby resort town: train tickets, hotels, and tourist spots, totaling over $6,000.

And last week, a charge at a luxury boutique: $13,800.

Ashley looked at me and asked softly, "Do you want me to keep scrolling?"

"Keep going."

She scrolled down.

Last Saturday—the exact day I told him we could hold off on buying a new refrigerator—there was a charge at a jewelry store: $8,800.

I stared at that number for a long time.

"Ashley," I said, my voice surprisingly calm. "I need you to do me a favor."