Chapter 5 - THE SUNDAY AMELIA SAID SHE HAD A MIGRAINE"Did you sleep with him that Sunday?"
Ethan asked.
Amelia remained silent.
"Answer."
"Yes."
The honesty somehow hurt more now.
Ethan looked at the date.
Sixteen months earlier.
Not eight.
Ryan had lied too.
"How long?"
Amelia sat on the sofa.
Her face looked exhausted.
"Since before he started working here."
"How long?"
"Sixteen months."
Ethan laughed once.
A broken sound.
"So when Ryan said eight months—"
"That's when it became regular."
Ethan stared.
Regular.
As if discussing a gym membership.
He walked toward the window.
Outside, the landscaper was trimming hedges.
Normal life continued.
Inside, eight years of marriage were being dismantled date by date.
"Why bring him into the house?"
Amelia rubbed her face.
"I don't know."
"Try harder."
"He understood me."
Ethan turned.
"What does that mean?"
"He remembered who I was before everything became schedules and school pickup and dinners with investors."
"You could've called a therapist."
She laughed bitterly.
"You always want to fix things with appointments."
"And you fix them with employees in closets."
Her face tightened.
"Fine."
"Fine?"
"You want ugly? I'll give you ugly."
She stood.
"I hated my life."
Ethan stared.
"Our life."
"Mine."
"We have a son."
"I love Owen."
"We have a beautiful house."
"I didn't want a house. You wanted a house."
"You chose it."
"Because you were excited."
"You wanted Malibu."
"I wanted you to notice me."
Ethan felt anger rising.
"Do not turn my career into permission."
"I didn't."
"You're trying."
Amelia shook her head.
"I'm telling you why."
"Why isn't the same as an excuse."
She looked away.
At least she didn't argue.
Ethan asked:
"Did Ryan think you were leaving me?"
"Eventually."
"Because you told him that."
"Yes."
"Were you?"
"I thought about it."
"Your attorney suggests more than thinking."
Amelia's expression changed.
"Ethan, I didn't file."
"Because of May."
She went silent.
"What happens in May?"
"Nothing."
"Then why did you mention it?"
No answer.
Ethan picked up his phone.
"I'll find out."
Her voice sharpened.
"Don't involve lawyers around Owen."
"You're already doing that."
She looked frightened now.
That was new.
Not guilt.
Fear.
Ethan realized whatever happened in May mattered enough that Amelia didn't want him discovering it before she was ready.
His phone rang.
Ryan.
Ethan answered.
"Why did you lie?"
Silence.
"What?"
"You said eight months."
Ryan exhaled.
"She told you."
"Sixteen months."
"Ethan—"
"Sixteen."
"I didn't know what counted."
Ethan almost laughed.
"Every time you slept with my wife counted."
Amelia turned away.
Ryan lowered his voice.
"I didn't sleep with her every time."
"That's supposed to help?"
"No."
"Why May?"
Ryan hesitated.
"I don't know."
"Don't lie again."
"I'm not."
"Then what did she tell you?"
Ryan paused.
"That after May she'd have enough."
"Enough what?"
"I thought money."
Ethan's stomach tightened.
"What money?"
"She said once she had enough put away, she could leave without depending on you."
Ethan looked at Amelia.
She was watching him.
"How much?"
"I don't know."
"Did you take money from her?"
"She paid me."
"For work?"
"Sometimes."
"For sex?"
"No."
The answer came with genuine offense.
Ethan almost laughed at the distinction.
"How much did she give you?"
Ryan hesitated.
"Maybe forty thousand total."
Ethan stared.
"Forty thousand dollars?"
"Over a year."
Amelia stepped forward.
"Hang up."
Ethan ignored her.
"Why?"
"Rent. Car. Tuition."
"She funded your life."
Ryan didn't answer.
Ethan looked at Amelia.
"Where did the money come from?"
"My account."
"Which account?"
"Mine."
"We're married."
"I had savings before marriage."
"Forty thousand?"
"Yes."
Ethan knew their finances.
Or thought he did.
Amelia entered the marriage with some savings.
Not enough to casually distribute forty thousand dollars while paying a divorce attorney.
"Show me."
"No."
"Show me the account."
"Talk to my lawyer."
There it was again.
Ethan ended the call.
He opened their banking app.
Joint accounts looked normal.
Savings.
Mortgage.
Investments.
No obvious transfers.
Then he remembered Amelia managed household expenses.
Staff payroll came through a separate operating account connected to one of Ethan's personal LLCs.
He opened it.
Monthly household spend had increased.
Not dramatically.
Enough to hide.
"What's 'West Coast Home Services'?"
Amelia froze.
Ethan clicked.
Payments.
$4,800.
$6,200.
$3,950.
Month after month.
Almost seventy thousand dollars in a year.
"Who is this?"
"It's a vendor."
"For what?"
"Cleaning supplies. Repairs."
"Ryan said you gave him forty thousand."
Amelia said nothing.
Ethan searched the business registration on his phone.
West Coast Home Services LLC.
Owner:
Ryan Cole.
Ethan stared.
His own household account had been paying Ryan's private company.
Ryan wasn't merely receiving cash from Amelia.
He was being paid through Ethan's money.
Ethan felt his hands begin to shake.
"How much did you steal?"
Amelia stood.
"I didn't steal anything."
"You created fake vendor invoices."
"They weren't fake."
"What service did Ryan's company provide?"
She had no answer.
Ethan calculated.
Seventy thousand in company payments.
Forty thousand Ryan admitted receiving.
Where was the rest?
"What happens in May?"
Amelia looked at him.
For the first time, she seemed defeated.
Then she whispered:
"Our tenth anniversary."
Ethan frowned.
"We've been married eight years."
"Our legal marriage will be nine in May."
He stared.
She continued.
May you like
"The prenup changes after nine."
And suddenly Ethan understood why Amelia had been waiting.
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