PART 5
I knew he had something to hide.
“Carla…”
“Where did the $186,000 go, Andrew?”
He looked toward the window.
Then toward the floor.
Finally, he whispered:
“I can explain.”
I felt my heart sink.
“Then explain.”
He sat down.
His hands trembled.
“It wasn’t for my mother.”
I stared at him.
“I never said it was.”
He looked up.
And that was when I realized the truth was going to be much worse than I imagined.
“It was for my sister.”
My stomach dropped.
“Your sister?”
He nodded.
“She was in trouble.”
“How much trouble?”
He looked at me.
“Enough that I thought she’d lose everything.”
I folded my arms.
“So you took our money?”
“I was going to pay it back.”
“How?”
“I had a plan.”
“What plan?”
He didn’t answer.
“Andrew.”
He closed his eyes.
Then he whispered:
“I sold something.”
“What did you sell?”
He looked at me.
And his answer made the entire room go cold.
“The house.”
My blood ran cold.
“What?”
He immediately stood.
“Not this house.”
“Then what house?”
He stared at me.
“The beach house.”
I couldn’t speak.
Because suddenly the vacation made sense.
The exclusion.
The anger.
The panic.
The phone calls.
His mother’s behavior.
Everything.
I whispered:
“What beach house?”
Andrew swallowed.
“The one your mother and I always called our family vacation house.”
I stared at him.
“That house was mine too.”
“I know.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“You don’t understand.”
I walked toward him.
“That property wasn’t just ours.”
His face went pale.
“It belonged to my mother.”
He looked confused.
“What?”
I pulled out my phone and opened an old document.
“After my father died, my mother transferred the property into my name.”
Andrew stared at the screen.
“You knew?”
“I found out last year.”
His mouth opened.
“But…”
I interrupted him.
“You sold a property you didn’t own.”
Silence.
Then he whispered:
“I thought you had given me permission.”
I stared at him.
“When?”
He couldn’t answer.
“Exactly.”
I stepped back.
The situation was no longer about a cruel mother-in-law.
It wasn’t even about a vacation.
This was something much bigger.
And somewhere in the middle of all the documents and hidden accounts, I suddenly realized there was one question I had forgotten to ask.
Who had Andrew really been sending the money to?
Because his sister wasn’t the person listed on the account.
The name on the transfer records was someone I had never heard before.
MARCUS REED.
And beneath that name was a note attached to the largest transfer:
PAYMENT — FINAL INSTALLMENT.
I looked at Andrew.
“Who is Marcus Reed?”
His face went completely white.
And this time, he didn’t say he could explain.
He simply whispered:
“Carla… you were never supposed to find that name.”
PART 4
“Who is Marcus Reed?” I asked again.
Andrew didn’t answer.
He just stood there in the kitchen, one hand gripping the edge of the counter so tightly that his knuckles had turned white.
“Andrew.”
His eyes finally met mine.
“I never wanted you to know about him.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“I know.”
“Then give me one.”
He looked toward the hallway.
For a second, I thought he might run.
Instead, he pulled out a chair and sat down.
“Marcus was my business partner.”
I stared at him.
“You don’t have a business partner.”
“I did.”
“When?”
“Before we got married.”
I frowned.
“That was twelve years ago.”
“Yes.”
“And you told me the business failed.”
“It did.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“You told me you lost money and walked away.”
“I did.”
“Then why are you still paying him?”
Andrew looked down.
“Because I didn’t walk away.”
My stomach tightened.
“What does that mean?”
He rubbed his face.
“I made a mistake.”
“What kind of mistake?”
“A serious one.”
I waited.
He finally looked up.
“Marcus and I borrowed money to start a construction company.”
I remembered.
Andrew had told me about it early in our marriage.
He had said it was a stupid idea.
He had said he lost everything.
He had said Marcus had disappeared with the remaining money.
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