Chapter 2
I turned toward Rachel so slowly that I could hear my own heartbeat.
“What did you just say?”
Rachel looked terrified.
Not guilty.
Terrified.
Michael shot out of his chair.
“Rachel, shut up.”
That was all I needed to hear.
I looked at my husband.
“No. She’s going to talk.”
Linda wiped at her hair and glared at Rachel.
“You always were a jealous little brat.”
Rachel’s hands shook.
“I’m tired of this.”
“Tired of what?” I asked.
She looked at me.
“Watching them use you.”
My stomach dropped.
Michael stepped between us.
“Sarah, she’s drunk.”
“I’ve had half a glass of wine,” Rachel snapped.
“Then you’re confused.”
“I’m not confused about the spreadsheet.”
The room became silent again.
I stared at her.
“What spreadsheet?”
Michael’s face lost what little color it had left.
Rachel swallowed.
“Mom made one before you and Michael got engaged.”
Linda laughed too loudly.
“This is ridiculous.”
Rachel ignored her.
“It listed your salary.”
My throat tightened.
“My salary?”
“And the townhouse you inherited from your grandmother.”
I stopped breathing for a second.
I had inherited a small rental property before I met Michael.
I rarely talked about it.
Michael knew.
But only after our third date.
At least, that was what I had believed.
Rachel looked ashamed.
“Mom already knew before your first date.”
I turned to Michael.
“How?”
He said nothing.
“HOW?”
Linda slammed her hand against the table.
“Because people talk! You act like you’re some secret millionaire.”
“I’m not a millionaire.”
“No,” Rachel whispered. “But you were stable.”
Michael looked at her with pure hatred.
“Enough.”
Rachel’s eyes filled with tears.
“No. Not enough.”
Then she looked back at me.
“Two years ago, Mom was about to lose this house.”
I glanced around the dining room.
The expensive furniture.
The new television.
The remodeled kitchen.
The designer decorations Linda bragged about every Christmas.
“What?”
“She was behind on the mortgage,” Rachel said. “And Michael owed almost forty thousand dollars on credit cards.”
My knees felt weak.
Michael had told me he had no debt when we married.
He had looked straight into my eyes.
“I asked you,” I whispered.
He rubbed both hands over his face.
“Sarah—”
“I asked you before our wedding if you had debt.”
“It was complicated.”
“No. It was yes or no.”
Linda rolled her eyes.
“Married people help each other.”
I looked at her.
“Then why was I helping you?”
Her mouth closed.
Rachel continued.
“Mom told Michael he needed someone responsible.”
I felt sick.
“Someone?”
She nodded.
“Someone with savings.”
Michael grabbed Rachel’s arm.
“Stop.”
She yanked herself free.
“You stop touching me.”
I stepped closer to Michael.
“Was our first date planned?”
He looked at the floor.
That answer hurt worse than the slap.
I whispered, “Was it?”
He finally nodded.
Once.
So small I almost missed it.
I felt something break inside me.
Every memory started changing.
The coffee shop where we had “accidentally” met.
The way he seemed interested in my work.
How impressed he had been that I owned property.
How quickly Linda welcomed me.
How she called me “the daughter I never had.”
I had believed all of it.
“How did you know where I would be?”
Michael sat down slowly.
“Rachel’s friend worked with you.”
I turned toward Rachel.
She immediately shook her head.
“I didn’t know what they were doing. My friend mentioned you were single. Mom started asking questions.”
Linda snapped, “Because I wanted my son to meet a decent woman.”
“A decent woman with a rental property,” I said.
“You’re twisting everything.”
“Am I?”
I looked at Michael.
“Did you marry me for money?”
He finally met my eyes.
“It didn’t stay that way.”
My stomach twisted.
That was not a denial.
I laughed once.
A broken, ugly sound.
“It didn’t stay that way?”
“I fell in love with you.”
“When?”
He stared at me.
“Sarah.”
“When did you fall in love with me?”
“I don’t know.”
“Before or after I paid off your credit card?”
His silence answered again.
I remembered that payment.
Eight months into our marriage.
Michael had told me one card had gotten “a little out of control” because of wedding expenses.
I paid $17,300.
He cried.
He hugged me.
He told me I had saved us.
Apparently I had only saved him.
Rachel lowered her voice.
“There’s more.”
Michael suddenly shouted, “There is no more!”
I flinched.
So did everyone else.
I had never heard him yell like that.
Rachel looked at me.
“The fifteen hundred dollars you send Mom every month?”
“Yes.”
“It isn’t for groceries.”
Linda lunged toward her.
I stepped between them.
“Don’t.”
Linda stopped.
I looked at Rachel.
“Where does it go?”
Rachel’s mouth trembled.
“Some of it pays her bills.”
“Some?”
“She sends five hundred back to Michael.”
I turned.
Michael closed his eyes.
I actually felt dizzy.
“You take money from me…”
I could barely get the words out.
“Then your mother sends part of it back to you?”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“What was it like?”
“I was paying something off.”
“What?”
He didn’t answer.
Rachel did.
“A private loan.”
My stomach sank again.
“For what?”
Rachel stared at her brother.
“Tell her.”
Michael whispered, “I was going to.”
“No,” I said. “You were going to keep eating.”
He looked at me.
I pointed toward the table.
“You watched your mother throw food at me. You watched her slap me. And the only time you got scared was when I stopped the transfer.”
Tears appeared in his eyes.
For once, they did nothing to me.
“What loan?”
He breathed out.
“Mom borrowed against the house.”
“How much?”
“Sarah—”
“How much?”
“Eighty thousand.”
I stared at him.
“For what?”
Rachel answered again.
“To cover Michael’s business loss.”
I looked between them.
“What business?”
Michael’s jaw tightened.
And suddenly I understood something even worse.
There was an entire life inside my marriage that I had never been allowed to see.
I reached for my purse.
Michael stood.
“Where are you going?”
“Home.”
“I’ll come with you.”
“No.”
“Sarah, please.”
“No.”
Linda laughed bitterly.
“Go ahead. Run away because marriage got difficult.”
I turned to her.
“Marriage didn’t get difficult.”
I pointed at Michael.
“My marriage just confessed that it was built on a spreadsheet.”
Nobody spoke.
I walked to the door.
Michael followed me.
“Sarah, please don’t do anything tonight.”
I stopped with my hand on the knob.
That sentence bothered me.
“What shouldn’t I do?”
His eyes shifted.
Only for a second.
But I saw it.
Fear.
Not heartbreak.
Financial fear.
I pulled out my phone.
Michael moved toward me.
“What are you doing?”
I opened our banking app.
His face changed.
“Sarah.”
I stared at the screen.
Our joint savings account had contained $84,211 three days earlier.
Now it contained $12,406.
My fingers went numb.
May you like
I looked up at my husband.
“Where is seventy-one thousand dollars?”
