I took a deep breath and opened it. Inside was a thick stack of photos and documents. Every single picture was a knife in my heart.
Mark and the woman holding hands while shopping on Michigan Avenue. Mark and the woman checking into the Thompson Hotel. Mark and the woman dining intimately at a high-end restaurant. My hands were shaking.
Kevin’s voice seemed to come from a distance. “Her name is Claire Sutton. She’s the new Director of Marketing at your husband’s company. They started seeing each other three months ago.”
He continued, “According to my investigation, your husband is indeed going to Toronto, but not for a business trip. He and Ms. Sutton are immigrating. He’s already purchased a condo there, and the down payment was made with money from your joint account.”
The world spun around me.
“Are you all right? Can I get you some water?” Kevin asked with concern.
I waved my hand, forcing myself to calm down and continue reading. The file included screenshots of their text messages.
Claire: Just a little longer. Once I get Hannah settled, we can finally be together in the open.
Mark: I’m waiting for you, darling. Besides, you’ve already moved most of the money from the joint account. She’s just a woman. What can she do?
Claire: That’s true. Her entire salary has gone into that account for years. I’ve been investing it. She has very little personal savings. She won’t be able to do much of anything after the divorce.
Mark: So when are you going to break it to her?
Claire: No need. I’ll go to Toronto first. After six months, I’ll tell her I met someone else there and want a divorce. That way she won’t make a scene. Since I’m the one initiating it, she’ll look petty if she fights it.
Mark: You’ve thought of everything. So when do we start decorating our place in Toronto?
Claire: As soon as I get there. Don’t worry, we’re going to have a wonderful life.
I closed the file, shut my eyes, and took a long, deep breath. Five years of marriage. It was all a meticulously planned scam.
“Ms. Miller, what do you plan to do?” Kevin asked, handing me a glass of water.
I opened my eyes, my gaze now firm. “I’m going to transfer every penny out of that joint account.”
“Is that legal?”
“It’s a joint account. I have the right to access the funds,” I said with a cold laugh. “Besides, most of that money came from my salary. He thinks I’m a fool who will just sit here and wait for him to come back and dump me? He’s dreaming.”
Kevin nodded. “I understand. If you need legal assistance, I can recommend an excellent lawyer.”
“Thank you. I do.”
Leaving the coffee shop, I didn’t go home. I went straight to the bank. The teller looked surprised at the amount I wanted to transfer.
“Ma’am, this is a substantial sum. Are you sure you want to transfer the entire balance?”
“I’m sure. To my personal account.”
“Okay, please enter your PIN.”
I typed in the numbers and watched the screen flash. Transfer successful. A wave of relief washed over me. $650,000. All in my personal account.
It was what I deserved. It was my blood, sweat, and tears from the last five years.
When I got home, Mark wasn’t back yet. I sat on the sofa and began to piece together the last five years. We met through a mutual friend. I had just graduated from college and was working as a copywriter at a small agency. Mark was three years older, already a project manager at a multinational corporation.
He was mature, stable, and charming. He pursued me relentlessly—flowers, gifts, picking me up from work every day. He said he fell for me the moment he saw me, that I was the most genuine and kind-hearted girl he had ever met.
I was swept off my feet by his sweet words and quickly agreed to be his girlfriend. A year later, we were married. The wedding wasn’t extravagant, but it was warm and lovely. I thought I had found the man I could spend the rest of my life with.
Our married life seemed happy. Mark was good to me. He ate dinner with me every night, and we went out on weekends. I thought this was what marriage was supposed to be. But looking back now, so many details were wrong.
Mark always insisted I deposit my salary into our joint account for “financial planning.” But I never saw a single statement in all those years. I never knew where the money went.
He often came home late, claiming he was working, but when I called him, I’d hear loud background noise, like a bar or a restaurant. He was indifferent to my family, always finding excuses not to visit my parents during the holidays. He was busy with work, he’d say, yet he always had time for his own friends.
I told myself he was just stressed from work. I told myself he was just an introvert. I made a thousand excuses to convince myself that my marriage was happy. Looking back now, I was a complete joke.
At 8:00 PM, Mark came home. “Hannah, I’m back.” He kissed my cheek as usual.
I suppressed my disgust and smiled. “You’re back. Did you eat?”
“Yeah, a team dinner at the office,” he said, taking off his jacket. “By the way, I leave the day after tomorrow. I just have to wrap some things up at work.”
“So soon?” I feigned surprise.
“Yeah, the project is on a tight schedule.” He sat on the sofa. “Hannah, while I’m gone for these two years, you have to take good care of yourself. Don’t spend money recklessly. Save where you can.”
I almost laughed out loud. He was about to take all our money and run, and he had the nerve to tell me not to spend recklessly.
“I will,” I said, looking down. “Mark, you take care of yourself in Toronto too.”
“Of course I will.” He took my hand. “When I get back, we’ll buy that big house we always wanted, and then we’ll have a baby.”
A baby? His baby with Claire? I just smiled and said nothing.
That night, we slept in the same bed as always, but I tossed and turned, unable to sleep. The man lying next to me was about to take our life savings and run off with another woman, and I still had to play my part in this charade.
The next day, I went to work as usual. During my lunch break, I called the lawyer Kevin had recommended.
“Hello? I was referred by Kevin Vance. I need to consult with you about a divorce.”
“Of course. Please tell me about your situation,” the lawyer’s voice was professional and reassuring.
I told her everything. After listening, the lawyer, Ms. Davis, spoke up.
“Based on what you’ve described, your husband has committed adultery and is attempting to transfer marital assets. Your action of moving the money from the joint account to your personal one is legally sound, as it is marital property and you have a right to control it.”
“So if I file for divorce now, what can I expect?” I asked.
“First, you can sue for damages due to emotional distress, as he is the at-fault party. Second, regarding the division of assets, if you can prove that the majority of the funds in the joint account came from your salary, you can argue for a larger share. Also, if your husband has used marital funds to purchase property abroad, that property is also subject to division.”
Her analysis gave me a clear path forward.
“What documents do I need to prepare?”
“Your marriage certificate, social security numbers, evidence of his infidelity, a list of assets, bank statements, and so on. You can start gathering these, and we can schedule a time to meet and discuss in detail.”
After hanging up, I started preparing the documents. The marriage certificate and our social security cards were in a drawer at home. Kevin had already given me a complete set of evidence of the affair. I could print the bank statements online. Everything was ready.
On my way home from work, my mom called. “Hannah, I hear Mark is going to Toronto for work?”
“Yes, Mom. The company is sending him,” I said calmly.
“Then what about you? Will you be okay at home alone?” My mom asked, her voice full of worry.
“I’ll be fine, Mom. I’m a grown woman. I can take care of myself.”
“But two years is a long time. Maybe you should go with him.”
“Mom, my job is here. I can’t just quit. Besides, he’s going for work, not to live there permanently. There’s no point in me going.”
My mom sighed. “I guess so. Well, you have to take care of yourself. Call me if you need anything.”
“I will, Mom.”
After hanging up, I smiled bitterly. I couldn’t imagine how heartbroken my mom would be if she knew I was about to get divorced. But I had no regrets. It was better to end a loveless marriage than to suffer in it.
When I got home, Mark was packing. A large suitcase was filled with clothes and toiletries.
“Hannah, come see if I’ve missed anything,” he asked, turning to me.
I walked over and glanced inside. “Looks like you have everything.”
“Great.” He zipped up the suitcase. “I leave tomorrow. Let’s go out for a nice dinner tonight, a little farewell celebration.”
“Okay.” I forced a smile.
We went to a fancy restaurant downtown. It was where we had our first date and where we always celebrated our anniversary. Mark ordered red wine, steak, and my favorite tiramisu.
“Hannah, it’s going to be tough on you for these two years,” he said, raising his glass. “When I get back, I promise I’ll make it up to you.”
I raised my glass and clinked it against his. “I’ll be waiting.” The wine was bittersweet, just like our marriage—sweet on the surface, but bitter underneath.
“Oh, after I leave, if you need money for anything, just take it from the joint account,” Mark said. “I left plenty in there for you.”
I almost burst out laughing. There was barely anything left in that account, and he was telling me he’d left me plenty.
“Okay, I will,” I said, focusing on cutting my steak.
“Hannah,” Mark suddenly grabbed my hand. “I know you’ll be lonely these next two years, but you have to wait for me. We have such a strong relationship, we can get through this.”
I looked into his eyes, which were filled with sincerity. If I hadn’t seen the evidence, I would have actually believed him.
“I’ll wait for you,” I said.
We came home late that night. Mark had a lot to drink and spent the entire ride home talking about his plans for the future. He said when he came back, we’d upgrade to a bigger house. He said when he came back, we’d go to the Maldives for a second honeymoon. He said when he came back, we’d have a baby.
Listening to his words, I felt nothing but irony. He would probably fulfill all those promises with Claire. I was just a stepping stone in his life.
The morning I took Mark to the airport, I put on extra makeup, especially dark eyeshadow, to make my crying look more convincing. Mark pulled his suitcase while I held his arm. We looked like any other loving couple, playing out a scene of painful farewell.
“Hannah, don’t cry. Two years will be over before you know it,” Mark said, wiping my tears.
“I know, I just can’t bear to see you go,” I sobbed.
“Silly girl.” He hugged me. “You have to take care of yourself. I’ll call you all the time.”
I buried my head in his chest, my tears soaking his shirt. It was time to board. Mark gave me one last kiss.
“Wait for me.”
“I’ll be waiting,” I said with a smile.
I stood there, watching him walk through the security gate, his figure getting smaller and smaller until it disappeared completely. There were so many people saying goodbye, some crying, some laughing. No one knew what the most heartbroken-looking woman among them was really thinking.