PART 4 — DAY TWO

The next morning, Julian made a mistake.

A very expensive one.

He called my bank.

I knew because my banker called me immediately afterward.

“Your husband attempted to obtain information about the business account.”

I sat in my office.

“What did he ask?”

“He claimed he was your spouse and wanted confirmation of your balances.”

I laughed softly.

“Did he get anything?”

“No.”

“Good.”

My banker paused.

“There’s something else.”

“What?”

“He asked whether the South Congress property was still under your name.”

I stopped smiling.

“Did he know about the property?”

“He apparently believes it’s jointly owned.”

I leaned back.

“He’s wrong.”

“I assumed so.”

“Thank you.”

After the call, I contacted Rebecca.

“Julian knows about the building.”

“How?”

“He tried to get information from my bank.”

Rebecca sighed.

“Then we’re moving faster.”

“Can we?”

“Yes.”

“What does that mean?”

“The letter goes out tomorrow instead of Friday.”

My pulse quickened.

“Tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

“But the five days?”

“You’ve already got enough documentation.”

I looked at the calendar.

Wednesday.

Friday had been the deadline.

“Then tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow.”

For the first time, the five-day promise had become something real.

That evening, Julian came home furious.

“Why didn’t you tell me about the building?”

I continued preparing dinner.

“What building?”

“The one on South Congress.”

I looked at him.

“Why are you asking?”

“Because I know about it.”

“Good.”

“How long have you owned it?”

“Two years.”

His face changed.

“You bought a property without telling me?”

“Yes.”

“With whose money?”

“Mine.”

He slammed his hand on the counter.

“You’re my wife.”

“And?”

“You can’t just hide assets from me.”

I turned off the stove.

“That’s interesting.”

“What?”

“You’re concerned about hidden assets?”

His expression tightened.

“Don’t change the subject.”

“I’m not.”

I looked him directly in the eye.

“How much did you spend on Vanessa’s apartment?”

He froze.

Vanessa appeared at the doorway.

“What?”

Julian turned.

“Go upstairs.”

She stared at him.

“Why?”

“Go.”

She walked away.

I folded my arms.

“How much?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Forty-three thousand dollars.”

He went silent.

“That’s the apartment deposit, furniture, and first month’s rent.”

His face drained.

“How do you know?”

“Because I’m your wife.”

He stepped closer.

“You went through my things?”

“No.”

“Then how?”

I smiled.

“You should ask your accountant.”

He stared at me.

I could see the gears turning.

He was finally realizing that I had been paying attention.

“You’ve been spying on me.”

“No.”

“Then what?”

“I’ve been protecting myself.”

He laughed bitterly.

“From me?”

“Yes.”

For the first time, he looked genuinely unsettled.

“You think you’re clever.”

“No.”

I walked toward him.

“I think I should have been smarter eight years ago.”

He grabbed my wrist.

I immediately pulled away.

“Don’t touch me.”

He released me.

For several seconds, neither of us spoke.

Then he said, quietly:

“You’re going to regret this.”

I looked at him.

“No, Julian.”

I picked up my phone.

“I already regretted staying.”

He walked out.

Twenty minutes later, my phone buzzed.

A text from Rebecca.

Tomorrow morning. 9:00 a.m.

Underneath was a photograph of a sealed envelope.

This goes to Julian, his employer, and the bank.

I stared at the envelope.

Then I looked toward the window.

The city lights glittered below.

Tomorrow, everything changed.