Boutique.
A ridiculous procession of charges.
Then I scrolled backward.
And started seeing charges I didn’t recognize.
Restaurants I’d never visited.
A hotel.
Another restaurant.
Small purchases that would have meant nothing alone but looked very different sitting beside everything I’d just learned.
I held the screen toward Daniel.
“These?”
He rubbed his forehead.
“Some of those are mine.”
“Clearly.”
The woman stepped closer and looked.
Her expression changed.
“You told me you paid for those from your own account.”
Daniel spun toward her.
“Can we not do this?”
She stared at him.
“You used your family account?”
That was the moment Daniel lost control of the room.
Until then, he’d been trying to manage two women separately—apologizing to me, correcting her, deciding which facts belonged in which conversation.
Now both versions of his story were standing three feet apart.
And neither of us needed him to interpret anything.
“How much?” I asked.
“Emily—”
“How much family money did you spend hiding this?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then we’ll find out.”
He reached for my phone.
I moved it away.
“Don’t.”
He stopped.
The woman picked up her purse.
“I’m leaving.”
Daniel turned.
“Wait.”
She laughed once, bitterly.
“For what? So you can explain that part differently too?”
He glanced toward me, embarrassed.
It was almost astonishing.
Even then, some part of him was still concerned with how he looked.
She turned to me.
“I’m sorry.
I should have asked more questions.”
I didn’t absolve her.
I didn’t attack her either.
“You should have.”
She nodded.
Then she left.
The door closed behind her.
Daniel and I stood in the house we’d built our entire adult life around.
Upstairs, I could hear LEGO pieces spilling onto Owen’s floor.
The normal sound nearly broke me.
Daniel lowered his voice.
“Please don’t make any decisions tonight.”
