Tucker.
Please answer. We need to talk.
I ignored it.
A few minutes later, another message arrived.
I missed my flight. Please don’t make any decisions until we can discuss this.
That was when I began wondering what else my husband was afraid I might discover.
We shared a bank account for household expenses and savings.
Tucker usually handled our bills because he liked organizing everything in spreadsheets.
I had full access to the account, but I rarely examined individual transactions.
I’d never believed I needed to.
That afternoon, I opened the statements.
At first, everything seemed ordinary.
Groceries.
Utilities.
Insurance.
Mortgage payments.
Then I noticed a hotel charge from February.
Tucker had told me he’d been attending a training seminar that week.
I checked another month.
A different hotel.
That charge appeared during a weekend he’d supposedly spent helping a coworker move.
My stomach tightened.
