Chapter 3

Three days later, Nora emailed me the report.

The moment I opened the attachment, my hand trembled around the mouse.

Item One: "Four years ago, March. 250 grand was transferred with the remark 'Renovation.'"

Nora's note beside it read, "The recipient, Ms. Rhodes, had no qualifications to operate a renovation company. The purpose of the transfer was unclear."

Item Two: "Three years ago, August. 480 grand was transferred with the remark 'Car Purchase.'"

Nora's note read, "The vehicle was registered under Ms. Rhodes' name."

Item Three: "Two years ago, November. 120 grand was swiped overseas."

Nora notes, "There's no record of Mr. Mercer traveling abroad during that period."

Items Four, Five, and Six. Five years, 1.43 million dollars.

730 grand of it came directly from our joint savings account. The account was opened in my name, and I was the one who set the password.

He had never told me that he had touched this money.

I dug out the passbook. The last time I had checked it was a year ago, and the balance hadn't changed. Had he been quietly replenishing the funds every time he transferred them out, or had he cooked two sets of books from the very beginning?

I called the bank. The customer service representative checked for five minutes before saying, "Mrs. Mercer, there have been no large withdrawals from this account under your name in the past five years."

"That's impossible."

"The system shows that all the transferred amounts were redeposited in cash on the same day."

I hung up the phone.

He owned a card I was completely unaware of. He used that card to transfer the money out, then replaced it with cash in our joint account. He had covered his tracks perfectly.

…

I went to his workplace. I was not there to confront him but to find Evelyn Miller.

Evelyn was the deputy director of the finance department. She had sat at the head table at our wedding. She was an old subordinate of Simon's late father, Sam Mercer.

I cut to the chase and told her I wanted to check his payroll records. Evelyn didn't pry, either.

Half an hour later, she slid a sheet of paper toward me.

Simon—monthly salary of 23 grand, annual bonus between 50 and 80 grand.

His total income in the last five years was 1.89 million dollars.

Current balance on record: 47 grand.

I stared at it for a long time. "Where did it all go?"

Evelyn shook her head. "It's not my place to ask."

She hesitated for a moment before continuing, "I've watched Simon grow up. His parents passed away when he was young. When Sam entrusted him to me, he told me that the boy might seem cold, but he was warmhearted. He wasn't good with people, so he asked me to keep an eye out for him."

Evelyn looked at me. "Leste, have you discovered something?"

I folded the paper and slipped it into my pocket.

"Evelyn," I said, "his father asked you to look after him. If Dad were still around, I doubt he'd want to see me mistreated either."

Without waiting for her response, I rose to my feet and walked out.

I was alone in the elevator. My reflection in the mirror was perfectly calm, as though nothing had happened. However, I was clutching the paper so tightly that my fingers had begun to sweat.

…

That evening, he came home early. I was ladling soup into a bowl in the kitchen when he leaned against the doorframe and watched me. "Nora told me you two went tile shopping today?"

"Yeah."

"Did you decide on one?"

"Not yet."

He walked over and took the bowl from my hands. "I'm leaving for Cyberia tomorrow for a three-day business trip."

"Okay."

He paused for a moment before asking, "Celeste... Is something bothering you lately?"

I looked up. He was looking at me with a slight frown.

I knew that expression all too well. It was the face he put on when things went wrong at work, when his students misbehaved, or when he was under pressure over his promotion.

In the past, I would've probed, comforted him, and done everything I could to cheer him up. Now, I merely smiled at him. "No. I'm just exhausted from the renovation."

He nodded and dropped the subject.

…

That night, Simon slept like a baby. Lying on my side, I traced the outline of his face in the streetlight filtering through the gap in the curtains, taking in his eyebrows, the bridge of his nose, and his lips.

I had looked at this face countless times for 11 years. The first time I laid eyes on him was during freshman orientation training.

He had stood at the front of the phalanx. Sweat slid down from his temple, but he didn't even bother to wipe it away. His jaw was clenched, and he looked stubborn and unyielding.

Back then, I thought, "What an interesting guy."

Later on, he courted me. The day he confessed his feelings, he stammered three times.

My roommate told me it wasn't easy for a blockhead like Simon to work up the nerve to profess his love. So, I should go easy on him.

I nodded and told him I'd be his girlfriend. The next thing I knew, he pulled me into his arms. Our chests were pressed together, and I could feel his heart pounding against mine.

The sycamore tree shed its leaves and grew them back, only to shed them again 11 times. I withdrew my hand, turned over, and closed my eyes.

A damp spot spread across the pillowcase. I had no idea when sleep finally claimed me.