I looked at the statements from the business account. The hotel charges weren’t just for the rooms. They were linked to a specific ledger Wade had been using to siphon funds from the nursery renovation fund. He had been telling Marlene the money was going into high-end cribs and custom woodwork, but it was all going to pay for his weekend getaways and his business card debt.

“Marlene,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. “He didn’t just spend the money on me.”

I started reading the numbers out loud. I listed the dates. I told her about the account he had been hiding since the third month of her pregnancy. The money meant for their son’s room hadn’t been spent on paint or wallpaper. It was sitting in a ghost account, drained by Wade to cover his tracks and his lifestyle.

Wade’s face turned gray. He lunged for the phone, but I backed away.

“You’re done,” I said.

Marlene didn’t scream. She didn’t cry. She just stayed on the line, listening as I read the final balance. The nursery fund was empty.

“I see it all now,” she said.

That was the last thing she said before she hung up. I stood in my kitchen, the phone warm against my ear, watching Wade realize that his life wasn’t just ruined because of a mistress. It was ruined because he was a thief.