Chapter 2

"I found it."

Uncle Arthur's call came even faster than three hours.

"Tell me."

"The deed modification was processed on the eleventh of last month using a notarized power of attorney. You weren't present on the day of notarization; William went alone.

The authorization letter you signed was hidden inside a stack of insurance documents. In legal terms, this is outright fraud."

"Can we revoke it?"

"Yes, but it will take time. We have to go through the courts to cancel the registration. Two weeks at the earliest."

"Too slow. What about the second thing?"

"The second thing—" Uncle Arthur paused. He rarely hesitated. "Are you prepared for this?"

"Just say it."

"William has three bank accounts. His salary account gets about eight thousand a month. But another account has received multiple large transfers over the past three months, totaling 1.92 million. All the money came from your card ending in 7736."

"Who did he send it to?"

"It went to his secret account first, and then it was transferred to someone named Daisy Carter."

Daisy Carter. The name sounded sickeningly sweet.

"What's their relationship?"

"Three months ago, she rented a two-bedroom apartment across from your residential complex. The rent is twelve thousand a month.

A month ago, she bought a Mercedes C-Class, paid in full for forty-three thousand. All the money came from your card."

I leaned back against the bed. The white fluorescent light on the ceiling buzzed loudly.

"There's one more thing," Uncle Arthur's voice dropped. "She recently registered at the city women's hospital."

"Is she pregnant?"

"Four months."

Four months ago, I was five months pregnant, throwing up until my stomach was empty. William was so busy back then that I barely saw him. He said his company had a huge project.

Turns out, the huge project was named Daisy.

"Uncle Arthur, let's stop here for now."

"Do you want me to—"

"No, I'll handle this myself."

I hung up and hid the phone back under the pillow.

The door was pushed open.

Beatrice stood there. I didn't know how she got in; she probably threw a tantrum at the front desk.

She was clutching a manila folder, walking so fast the door almost hit the wall.

"Chloe, sign this."

She pulled a document from the folder and slammed it onto my bedside table.

"What is this?"

"A bank authorization form. It adds William as a joint owner to all your accounts."

"Why?"

"A married couple putting their money together is just how things are done."

"The money in those accounts is my pre-marital savings. It has nothing to do with joint property."

Beatrice’s face instantly darkened.

"You always throw the law in our faces! Do you even treat us like family?"

She threw the pen onto the document.

"Let me tell you, Chloe. You’ve been married to William for three years. My son has been taking care of your food, shelter, and everything else. You just brought some money into this marriage. What’s more important, money or family?"

"My husband took care of everything? Your son makes eight thousand a month. This recovery center, that penthouse, the forty-eight-thousand-dollar coat your daughter is wearing—which of these did he provide?"

Beatrice’s lips trembled. She couldn’t argue with that, so she shifted her angle.

"You're just too calculative. No wonder William is out there—"

She suddenly shut her mouth.

"Go on, Mom. What is William doing out there?"

"Nothing. I just mean he works so hard entertaining clients."

Her eyes darted around. She was hiding something.

"Are you signing or not?"

"No."

Beatrice took a deep breath, packed up the documents and the pen, and walked toward the door.

Halfway there, she turned around. Her voice was suddenly calm—a kind of calm that was chillier than her screaming.

"Chloe, William is your husband. He is the pillar of this family. What he does outside and how he spends money is none of your business as a wife."

"If you keep pushing about the money, this family will fall apart. Think about what will happen to your baby then."

The door closed.

The baby in the crib suddenly started crying, her voice high and thin.

I turned to pick her up. The movement pulled at my stitches, making me turn pale with pain.

On one side was a 1.92-million-dollar hole. On the other was a four-month-old secret.

My phone vibrated again.

Uncle Arthur had sent an update.

"Found another thing. William isn't listed as the emergency contact on Daisy Carter's apartment lease."

"Who is?"

"Tiffany Miller. Your sister-in-law."