Chapter 5

That night, I stayed in the hospital room. After Oliver fell asleep, I opened my laptop and started checking the accounts.

Since the bank records showed I transferred $12,000, and Megan's account also showed she received $12,000, then the problem might be in the middle.

I remembered a case I had seen before: someone used a third-party payment platform and set up automatic transfers, so the money would be moved again the moment it arrived.

I logged into Megan's mobile banking app—her password was Oliver's birthday, and I had always remembered it. I entered the account details and carefully checked every deposit.

Sure enough, I found the problem.

Every 15th of the month, $12,000 arrived. But almost within the same minute, there would be a $10,000 transfer out, and the recipient was an account called BrightPath Investments.

The remaining $2,000 would be transferred the same day or the next day to another account named Dylan Brooks.

Dylan Brooks?

I had never heard this name before.

Looking at the other months, the pattern was exactly the same: $12,000 arrived, $10,000 went to BrightPath Investments, and $2,000 went to Dylan Brooks.

Sometimes the transfer to Dylan Brooks would be delayed by a day or two, but it never failed to appear.

I was freezing all over.

So Megan had not been lying completely. She really did "only receive $2,000," because the rest of the money had already been transferred out before she saw it.

But a transfer required either a password or fingerprint verification. Unless... she had done it herself.

Or someone had obtained her account password.

I took screenshots and saved all the records, then searched for BrightPath Investments. It was an investment platform that had blown up three years ago, and the boss had run off with the money, involving more than a billion dollars. Countless people lost everything.

Megan had invested money in that platform? $10,000 every month for six years meant $720,000. Add in her own salary savings...

I suddenly remembered that six years ago, Megan had mentioned that one of her girlfriends was doing investments and making a very high return, and asked whether I wanted to put in some money too.

I was busy with a project at the time, so I casually said, "You handle it, just don't invest too much." After that, I never heard her mention it again.

Could she have been secretly investing all this time? And increasing the amount more and more, even using our living expenses?

As for that Dylan Brooks...

I searched the name, but nothing came up in any app.

But when I opened Megan's bills, I saw even more transfer records: the money sent to Dylan Brooks did not only come from the bank card, but also from other transfer platforms, with amounts ranging from a few hundred to a few thousand, spanning four years.

The most recent one was yesterday, for $2,000.

The note said: "This month's living expenses for baby."

Baby?

Blood rushed straight to my head.

Megan was seeing someone else? And she had a child with him?

No, impossible. I had been with Megan throughout her pregnancy and delivery all six years of our marriage. Oliver was her only child.

Unless...

A terrifying thought began to take shape in my mind.

With trembling hands, I clicked on Dylan Brooks' profile picture. It was a man seen from behind, and his face was not very clear. But when I enlarged the photo and looked closely, I saw that he was holding the hand of a three- or four-year-old boy.

In the corner of the photo, there was a very small watermark date: May 2023.

Last May.

What was Megan doing then? I remembered that from April to June last year, she said her company had sent her to a nearby city for three months of training. During that time, we barely contacted each other, and she said the training was very busy, so she often did not answer calls.

My heart sank little by little.

I shut the laptop and walked to the window. It was late at night, and the streets outside the hospital were dimly lit.

In the room, Oliver smacked his lips in his sleep and called out softly, "Mommy."

Megan had gone home for something.

I took out my phone and sent her a message: "Oliver is awake. He said he misses Mommy."

Ten minutes later, she replied: "He's asleep. I'll come by tomorrow morning."

"What happened at home? Do you need my help?"

"No need. A pipe broke, but it's already fixed."

But I clearly remembered that just last week, she had said the pipes at home had just been replaced with new ones.

I stayed on the chat screen for a long time, and in the end I typed: "Megan, let's talk. About Dylan Brooks."

The message was sent, and it showed "Read."

But she did not reply.

Five minutes, ten minutes, half an hour.

She seemed to have vanished.

I directly called her. Busy signal. I called again. Her phone was turned off.

At 2:00 a.m., I stood in the empty hallway, my whole body ice-cold.

My phone suddenly vibrated. It was a text from an unknown number. There was only one line:

"Want to know where the money went? Tomorrow at 10 a.m., the café by the hospital back entrance. Come alone. Don't tell Megan."

I stared at that text, my fingers tightening.

The truth was about to come out.