Chapter 2

"Can you come to my office tomorrow morning? This is too complicated to explain over the phone."

I asked the pediatric nurse to keep an eye on Mia, and the next morning, I took an Uber to Mr. Martinez's law firm.

Seventeenth floor. Floor-to-ceiling windows. Bright, unforgiving sunlight.

I was still wearing the jacket Mia had thrown up on the night before, my hair haphazardly pulled back in a loose hair tie. I looked like a homeless person.

The receptionist eyed me with clear hesitation.

Mr. Martinez came out to greet me himself. In his forties, tall and lean, wearing silver-rimmed glasses, moving with purposeful efficiency.

"Have a seat. Let's go through the details."

He opened a thick folder of printouts and slid them across the sleek mahogany desk toward me.

"Real estate. The four-bedroom house you purchased after your marriage has an estimated market value of about 1.5 million dollars. It was transferred to Chloe Summers three months ago."

His manicured finger tapped a specific line.

"The transaction price was listed as one dollar."

One dollar.

A 1.5-million-dollar house, sold for a single dollar.

"Vehicles. The Mercedes-Benz GLC bought during the marriage was transferred under Chloe Summers's name last month."

"Corporate equity. The 35% stake Donald held in Horizon Tech was pledged as collateral late last year. It was pledged to an LLC named Summers Capital. The sole proprietor is—"

"Chloe Summers," I finished for him, my voice completely devoid of emotion.

He glanced at me, nodding grimly.

"Bank accounts. His primary checking account currently has a balance of 1.1 million dollars. But starting early last year, that account has been making continuous, massive wire transfers to Chloe Summers's personal account."

"The cumulative amount transferred so far: roughly 850,000 dollars."

The house, the car, the company shares, the cash savings.

Every single dime we had accumulated over eight years of marriage had been systematically hauled away by him.

Handed over on a silver platter to a woman named Chloe Summers.

I sat on the plush leather sofa, digging my fingernails into my palms so hard they nearly bled. I felt no pain at all.

"Mr. Martinez, what is this legally considered?"

"Fraudulent conveyance and dissipation of marital assets.

### 小说标题

Seven Bucks a Day"If we prove intentional dissipation, the court can penalize him by awarding him a smaller share of the estate, or potentially nothing at all."

"What kind of evidence do we need?"

"A solid, airtight chain of custody. Property deeds and title transfers are public record; we can pull those easily. But his personal bank statements and financial ledgers require his written consent—or a court subpoena."

"He'll never consent."

"Which means you have to gather the initial evidence yourself. Wire transfer receipts, message histories, audio recordings—whatever you can get your hands on."

He adjusted his glasses, his tone growing grave.

"And you have to act fast. The moment Donald realizes you're filing for divorce, he will burn every digital trail and shred every document."

"If that happens, you won't even meet the minimum burden of proof."

"I understand."

Leaving the law firm, I stood on the sidewalk outside for a long time.

Eight years.

I had believed everything he told me. I accepted whatever crumbs he handed down.

When he told me seven dollars was enough, I forced myself to make seven dollars work.

Back at the hospital.

Mia's fever had finally broken. Her small face was still pale, but her bright eyes followed me as I approached the bed.

"Mommy."

"I'm here, baby."

"Where's Daddy?"

"Daddy's working."

Mia tilted her head, thinking for a moment.

"Daddy is always working."

I forced a small smile.

My phone rang. It wasn't Donald. It was his mother, Evelyn.

"Amanda, Donald told me Mia had a fever. Is it serious?"

"Evelyn, she was admitted to the hospital. She had febrile seizures."

"Admitted? That serious? Good grief, how are you looking after that child? How does a healthy girl spike a fever like that out of nowhere? Did you underdress her again?"

"Evelyn, listen to me—"

"Alright, alright, I'll drop by tomorrow. And stop getting paranoid over nothing. You know how hard Donald works to put food on the table. He didn't come because he's busy closing deals. Show a little understanding."

She paused briefly.

"Oh, and if you're tight on cash, ask Donald to Venmo you fifty bucks. A simple cold shouldn't cost much anyway."

Fifty bucks.

The Vance family certainly shared the exact same financial philosophy.

"Got it, Evelyn."

"Good. Take care of Mia."

After hanging up, I picked up Mia's iPad again.

I went back into the photo stream.

Screenshot after screenshot, saving each one straight to my cloud storage.

Then, I opened the Notes app.

Donald's personal notes had synced across devices too.

The most recent entry: *Chloe's Birthday – Limited Edition Chanel Classic Flap, paid, $7,200.*

The next one: *Chloe wants a new ride. Porsche Macan down payment wired.*

Another one right below: *Title transfer on the old house completed. Chloe loved it. Staying at her place tonight.*

The old house.

He didn't even call it our home anymore.

That was the house I had poured seven years of my life into. The place where our daughter took her first steps.

To him, it was just "the old house."

I kept scrolling. The very last note, logged two days ago:

*Lowered Amanda's secondary card limit to $7. She doesn't spend anyway. Keep Chloe's card untouched, $7,000 a day should keep her happy.*

I stared at the screen.

Every single word felt like a hot needle driving directly into my eyes.

I took screenshots of everything.

Opening SnapChat, I fired off a message to Mr. Martinez.

"I've started gathering the evidence. There's one more thing."

"Who exactly is Chloe Summers?"