Chapter 2

When I got back to my parents’ house, my mom Elena looked worried.

“Really just one month?”

“Mom, I know what I’m doing.”

“What about the house?”

“Temporarily his.”

My mom panicked: “Are you crazy? You paid the down payment on that house, and you’ve been paying most of the mortgage every month!”

“Mom.” I held her hand. “It’s a fake divorce, not a real one. After we remarry in a month, the house will still belong to both of us.”

This was Derek’s line.

My mom was skeptical: “Well… you better keep a close eye on things.”

“Don’t worry.”

My dad Thomas sat nearby smoking, silent.

Only after my mom went to the kitchen to cook did he speak.

“Sweetie, are you hiding something from us?”

I looked at him.

“You’ve always been like this. The bigger the issue, the less you say.” He tapped ash from his cigarette. “But whatever decision you make, I support you.”

My eyes felt hot.

“Dad, I might need to stay here for a while.”

“Stay as long as you want.”

That night, Derek sent me a text.

“Did you get home okay?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Rest well. Once things are sorted here, I’ll come get you.”

“Okay.”

The phone screen went dark.

I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling.

The next day, I took my annual leave.

Madison asked me: “What’s your plan for investigating?”

“Start with that woman.”

“You know who she is?”

“I do.” I handed her my phone. “I found out a year ago.”

On the screen was a photo.

A young woman, around twenty-six or twenty-seven, with long hair and delicate features.

The photo was taken at a café.

Derek sat across from her.

They were smiling.

“This is…” Madison’s eyes widened.

“Vanessa Clarke, the accountant at his company.” I said. “That company Derek owns — on paper it’s his, but she has a share too.”

“How do you know?”

“Public business registration records. Two shareholders: Derek owns sixty percent, Vanessa Clarke owns forty.”

Madison gasped.

“There’s more.” I pulled up another image. “This is another property under Derek’s name, on the west side of town. Eighty-three square meters.”

“What? He has another apartment?”

“Yes. Bought two years ago. Down payment of forty thousand, mortgage of one hundred twenty thousand. The delivery address on the purchase contract is Vanessa Clarke’s address.”

Madison looked at me: “How long have you been investigating?”

“On and off, three years.”

She was silent for a moment: “Why didn’t you confront him earlier?”

“Not enough evidence.” I put my phone away. “And I wanted to see how far he’d actually go.”

“And now?”

“Now,” I smiled slightly, “he’s delivered himself to my doorstep.”

In the fake divorce agreement, the house goes to him, the car goes to him.

This house is worth three hundred fifty thousand.

This car is worth twenty-three thousand.

And the “joint savings” only listed thirty thousand.

He thought I didn’t know his company made over eighty thousand in profit last year.

He thought I didn’t know about his apartment on the west side.

He thought I was an idiot.

He wanted to use a fake divorce to leave me with nothing.

Then openly be with that woman.

Too bad he miscalculated.