Chapter 3

After we got home, Colin made an excuse about having something to do at the office and hurried out the door.

I watched him walk away, then turned and went into the bedroom.

At the very bottom of the closet sat an old, worn metal combination-lock box.

That was where Colin kept his passbook and bank cards.

He said it was our little family's vault, and only he knew the combination.

I used to trust him, so I never asked about it.

But now I had to find out exactly where that $99,000 had come from.

I started trying combinations.

His birthday, my birthday, our wedding anniversary.

Every one wrong.

Then I suddenly remembered the details on Brenda's profile page—her birthday was July 12, 1998.

With trembling hands, I typed in 980712.

Click. The lock opened.

Inside was a First National Bank savings card.

This was the card we both paid into every month, five hundred dollars each without fail, right after payday.

Over five years, there should have been around thirty thousand dollars in it.

I grabbed the card, threw on my coat, and headed straight down to the ATM downstairs.

I inserted the card and entered the same PIN.

The balance popped up on the screen: $0.52.

Thirty thousand dollars, and not a cent left.

I stared at that number, my mind completely blank.

Five years of scrimping. Five years of plain, cheap meals.

I didn't buy clothes, I didn't use makeup, and even on my period I only let myself buy the cheapest pads.

I thought we were working toward the same future.

And it turned out he'd taken every dollar of my blood and sweat and used it to build a golden house for another woman.

My chest was so tight it ached, but I couldn't shed a single tear.

I pulled out the card and took a taxi straight to Harmony Private Maternity Hospital.

It was a private hospital that only served high-end clients, and the lobby was lavish.

I walked up to the front desk, forcing down the tremor in my voice.

"Hello, I'm here to see Brenda Perez. I'm her cousin—I've brought her a few things."

The nurse checked the computer and then spoke with a smile.

"Ms. Perez is in the VVIP suite on the top floor, room 801. You can take the private elevator straight up."

I thanked her and headed for the elevator.

The elevator doors were polished to a mirror shine, reflecting my pale face and the old down jacket I'd worn for three years.

As the floor numbers kept climbing, my heart pounded faster and faster.

With a ding, I reached the top floor.

The corridor was covered in thick carpet, so quiet you couldn't hear a footstep.

I followed the room numbers and found 801.

The door hadn't been shut all the way; a gap about a hand's width wide was open, and bursts of laughter drifted out.

"Honey, these grapes are a little sour, I don't want them anymore."

It was Brenda's sweet, coy voice.

"Sour means a boy, spicy means a girl—sour is good, it means our son's healthy."

Colin's voice followed right after, warm with a fawning little laugh.

I peered in through the gap.

In the luxurious hospital room, Brenda lounged against the soft pillows in silk pajamas.

Colin sat at the edge of the bed, holding a crystal fruit dish, carefully peeling the skin off a grape.

As soon as he'd peeled one, he fed it into Brenda's mouth.

He even cupped his hand to catch the seeds she spat out.

The man who wouldn't so much as pick up a soy sauce bottle if it fell over at home, the man who made me drag my miscarrying body onto a crowded subway.

Now here he was, waiting on another woman like a servant.

My hand froze in midair as I reached to push the door open, my whole body trembling beyond my control.

"Colin, your wife won't find out, will she? I really don't want to be taken for some mistress."

Brenda chewed a grape and asked it carelessly.

Colin gave a cold snort, his face full of contempt.

"Find out what? That old hag is plenty stupid—I make up any excuse and she believes it."

"Besides, she can't even manage to have a kid. Not throwing her out on the street is more than she deserves."

"Once she's finished saving up the down payment for the house, I'll divorce her. Then that money will be just right for buying our son a house in a good school district."