I grabbed the document from the desk, slid it into my folder, then walked back and slipped out the front door.
Luckily, no one noticed.
The drive back to work was a blur; tears ran down my face, and my head just wouldn’t slow down.
Every word, laugh, and sentence replayed on a loop.
But I forced myself to be rational and focused when I returned to work and walked into that meeting.
And somehow, I pulled my presentation off.
By the time it was over, I had secured the client. Everyone congratulated me.
I smiled, thanked them, and acted as if everything were normal.
But the second I got back to my office, I shut the door and sat down.
Tears ran down my face.
That’s when I made my first move.
I called the bank.
“I need full statements. All joint accounts. The last 12 months.”
When the statements came through, at first glance, everything looked fine. Bills paid. Expenses tracked.
Then I saw a transfer for the same amount going to an account I didn’t recognize, repeated every month.
Only one person could be responsible.
That night, I didn’t bring anything up.
Not the recording, the transfers, or the fact that my husband had magically recovered.
I acted normally.
Made dinner. Asked how he was feeling.
“Better,” Dan said. “Just needed rest.”
I nodded as if I believed him.
But I’d started watching him closely.
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