Chapter 1 The Last Straw

My wife, Susan Miles, and I had been married for three years. During that time, I had put everything I owned into our joint account.

It had been Susan's idea.

"Honey, a marriage should be equal. There's a big difference between our incomes, and that kind of gap can easily become a source of conflict. Why don't we put all our money together? I'll manage the account and handle our expenses. That way, we can cut down on unnecessary spending."

At that time, I agreed.

Now, my stomach condition had flared up badly, and the pain was almost unbearable. However, the balance on my medical card wasn't enough to cover the preion, as I was still two hundred short.

The staff member behind the counter was getting impatient. "Are you done yet? There are people still waiting behind you!"

Embarrassed, I picked up the bill and said, "Sorry. I won't be getting it today."

She stared at me in surprise as I turned away, clutching my stomach and doubling over with every stab of pain.

…

Meanwhile, messages from Susan kept coming.

"Honey, why haven't you filled it out yet? If you don't get it done within the time limit, you won't get the money today!"

I looked at the message and laughed in disbelief.

That was right.

According to Susan's rules, I had ten minutes to complete the request form once she sent it to me. If I missed the deadline, I lost my eligibility to request money for the rest of the day. If I needed cash after that, I had to wait until tomorrow.

As I thought about it, I took a deep breath, pulled out my phone again, and asked a friend to lend me a thousand dollars.

Then, he called me immediately.

"Ryan, what's going on? Is something wrong?"

After I gave him a quick rundown, he transferred me fifty thousand on the spot.

"If it's still not enough, just tell me!"

As I stared at the number on my screen, my heart went cold.

After all, the woman who shared my bed made me file an application for two hundred, while my friend had sent me fifty thousand in one go without any questions asked.

That was the difference between people.

I bought my medication and headed home with my mind already made up once the pain finally eased.

…

The moment I walked through the door, I found Susan sitting on the couch, showing off a brand-new designer bag.

"What do you think? It just went on sale, and I knew I had to have it the second I saw it. I even got ten percent off and paid for it in full!"

The smug satisfaction on her face made my expression darken.

"Susan, I'm not letting you manage my money anymore."

She froze.

"Honey, what are you talking about? With the way you spend money, could you even save ten thousand of it on your own, even though you earn fifty thousand a month? I know you're upset, but don't be. This bag holds its value."

Listening to her words, I almost laughed.

When I wanted to spend some money, I was reckless. However, when she wanted to spend it, it was an investment.

Only then did I realize I'd severely underestimated the depths of her double standards.

Thinking about it, I pushed past her and went into the bathroom. I pulled up our joint account on my phone and noticed that there were only three hundred dollars.

Just then, Susan's voice came through the door. "Honey, I know you're upset, so I'm not making you fill out a request for that three hundred today. Instead, I'm giving it to you directly. See? I treat you pretty well, don't I?"

I said nothing.

Instead, I contacted a lawyer and asked him to handle my divorce.

After reviewing the information I'd sent, he gave me his assessment. First, he told me that I needed to determine exactly how much property we had. After all, splitting it evenly would already be difficult, and getting back most of the money I'd earned myself would be harder still.

Moreover, since I was the one asking for the divorce, I should expect to give up some of it.

When I heard this, I dug my nails into my palm.

Then, I started going through Susan's social media accounts.

That was when I discovered her brother had just moved into a new house. Not just any house, either. It was in the best neighborhood in the city, in a highly sought-after school district. Plus, it had been paid for in cash.

Her brother was in his thirties with no steady job, while his wife stayed home with their child. Hence, there was no way they could have paid for that house on their own.

The answer was obvious. It was Susan. She'd been moving money out of our joint account and into her family's pockets, and I would be damned if I allowed her to keep draining me.

My first instinct was to storm in there and demand answers, but my lawyer's words stopped me.

I needed evidence. Moreover, if I fought with her now, I'd be at a disadvantage.

Thinking about it, I forced myself to calm down and logged into my online banking to report my bank card as lost.