Chapter 2 – THE ACCOUNT MY HUSBAND DIDN’T KNOW ABOUT

I didn’t tell Ethan about the statement until everyone was gone.

By then, the backyard looked like the remains of somebody else’s celebration.

Half-empty glasses covered the tables. Torn wrapping paper moved across the patio whenever the evening wind blew. The cake was untouched except for the piece my father-in-law had cut before everything went wrong.

The broken gift was still on the ground.

It had been a ceramic lamp for the nursery.

Hand-painted clouds around the base.

Diane had ordered it months ago.

I stared at the pieces while Ethan crouched beside me with a towel.

“You should sit down.”

“I’m fine.”

“Grace.”

“I’m fine.”

I wasn’t.

But the baby was moving normally, I wasn’t hurt, and what I needed at that moment wasn’t a chair.

It was an answer.

I handed him the statement.

His expression changed before he’d finished reading the first line.

“What is this?”

“I was hoping you could tell me.”

He read it again.

Then a third time.

“I’ve never seen this account.”

“Your name is on it.”

“I can see that.”

“Almost fifty thousand dollars, Ethan.”

“I know.”

“Why was it in Madison’s purse?”

His eyes lifted to mine.

That question frightened both of us.

We went inside and locked ourselves in his father’s study.

Ethan pulled up his credit report.

There it was.

An account opened eighteen months earlier.

A line of credit attached to a small business entity I didn’t recognize.

Carter Home Consulting LLC.

Ethan stared at the screen.

“I didn’t open this.”

“Could Madison have?”

“Not legally.”

That wasn’t an answer.

I thought about Madison’s expression before she threw the water.

Not simple anger.

Panic.

“What does she do for work now?”

Ethan rubbed his forehead.

“Freelance marketing. Some consulting.”

“Consulting.”

His eyes met mine.

I didn’t have to say more.

He called Madison.

Straight to voicemail.

Again.

Voicemail.

Then Diane called.

Ethan put her on speaker.

“Is Grace all right?”

“I’m fine,” I said.

A pause.

“I’m sorry.”

I almost laughed.

Diane apologized for Madison constantly. The words had become meaningless.

Then she said something different.

“Did Madison leave anything behind?”

Ethan and I looked at each other.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Her purse was open when she left.”

My fingers tightened around the statement.

“Why are you asking?” I said.

Another pause.

Longer this time.

“Grace, did you find something?”

I looked at Ethan.

He slowly shook his head.

Don’t tell her.

For once, I agreed.

“Just some lipstick,” I lied.

Diane was silent.

Then she said, very softly, “All right.”

After she hung up, Ethan stared at me.

“My mother knows something.”

I folded the statement.

“Yes.”

That night, I couldn’t sleep.

At two in the morning, I went downstairs and photographed every page of the document.

Front.

Back.

Account number.

Business name.

Payment history.

Then I emailed the photos to myself.

Something about Madison’s panic wouldn’t leave me alone.

At 2:17 a.m., my phone buzzed.

A text from her.

You picked up something that belongs to me.

I stared at the message.

Then another appeared.

Don’t involve Ethan in something you don’t understand.

My baby moved beneath my palm.

I typed only four words.

It’s already too late.

The typing bubbles appeared instantly.

Then disappeared.

Appeared.

Disappeared.

Finally, Madison sent one last message.

You have no idea what you’re doing.

I looked toward the stairs, where my husband was sleeping.

For the first time since I’d married him, I wondered whether Madison was right.