PART 5
“Dad?”
“Yes?”
“What if he comes after us?”
Dad’s expression changed.
Not fear.
Determination.
“He won’t find you alone again.”
I stared at him.
“What does that mean?”
“It means tomorrow we start documenting everything.”
He paused.
“And we find out exactly what he’s been hiding.”
I frowned.
“What do you mean?”
Dad looked toward the sleeping boy.
Then back at me.
“Your husband didn’t become controlling overnight.”
My heart began beating faster.
“What are you saying?”
Dad reached into his jacket again.
This time he pulled out a folded piece of paper.
“I’ve been keeping something from you.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
He unfolded the paper.
It was an old bank statement.
My name was printed across the top.
My breath caught.
“Dad…”
He looked directly into my eyes.
“I found this six months ago.”
I picked it up.
At first, I couldn’t understand what I was looking at.
Then I saw the account number.
It was mine.
An account I had never opened.
And beside my name was a balance that made my hands begin to shake.
$42,680.14
I looked at Dad.
“What is this?”
He leaned closer.
“I don’t know yet.”
My heart raced.
“But I think Evan does.”
I stared at the number.
Forty-two thousand dollars.
My entire life, Evan had told me we were barely surviving.
He had told me there wasn’t enough money.
He had questioned every grocery purchase.
Every pair of shoes Noah needed.
Every dollar I spent.
And all this time…
There was an account in my name.
With more than forty-two thousand dollars.
Dad folded his hands.
“I didn’t tell you because I wasn’t sure.”
“Sure about what?”
He looked toward the hospital door.
“That your husband wasn’t only controlling you.”
He lowered his voice.
“I think he may have been controlling your money too.”
I stared at the statement.
And suddenly, the seventy-three dollars didn’t seem like the beginning of my escape.
It seemed like the reason Evan had finally realized he was losing control.
Because maybe he wasn’t afraid that I would leave.
Maybe he was afraid of what I would discover if I did.
PART 4
The next morning, I woke up with a fractured rib, a sore shoulder, and one question repeating in my mind.
Why was there $42,680.14 in an account with my name on it?
Dad had barely slept.
He sat in the hospital chair beside the window, holding a paper cup of coffee that had gone cold.
Noah was asleep beside him.
When I opened my eyes, Dad noticed immediately.
“You’re awake.”
I nodded.
“Where did you get that statement?”
Dad took a breath.
“From a box of documents your husband accidentally left at my house.”
“Accidentally?”
“He came over about six months ago.”
I frowned.
“Why?”
“He said he needed to talk to me about you.”
My stomach tightened.
“What did he say?”
Dad looked down.
“He told me you were becoming unstable.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
“He said you were depressed. That you were having trouble managing money. That you were becoming obsessed with leaving.”
My mouth went dry.
“He said that?”
“Yes.”
Dad’s voice hardened.
“I didn’t believe him.”
He reached for another folder.
“I asked him why he was so concerned about your finances if you were supposedly the problem.”
“What did he say?”
“He changed the subject.”
Dad opened the folder.
Inside were photocopies of bank records, property documents, and several handwritten notes.
“I started looking into things.”
My heart began pounding.
“What did you find?”
Dad hesitated.
“I found that the account isn’t the only thing.”
He slid another document toward me.
It was a mortgage statement.
My name appeared again.
But this time, the balance was nearly $118,000.
I stared at it.
“What is this?”
Dad shook his head.
“That’s what we’re going to find out.”
One Comment on “PART 5”