Chapter 3
I stared at the bank statement.
$287,400.
The numbers burned into my eyes.
"Daniel," I said. "What is this?"
He stepped in front of the desk, trying to block my view.
"It's nothing," he said. "Just a business account."
"We don't have a business account with that much money," I said. "You told me we were struggling. You made me cancel Emma's ballet lessons. You made me return my mother's necklace to pay the electric bill."
My voice was rising now.
"Where did this money come from, Daniel?"
He wouldn't meet my eyes.
"I can explain—"
"Explain what?" I pushed past him. I grabbed the statement.
And that's when I saw the transfer history.
Monthly deposits.
$12,000. Every month. For the past two years.
From Harrington Holdings.
His mother's company.
"Your mother has been paying you?" I whispered.
"It's not what you think—"
"Then what is it?" I flipped through more pages.
And I saw the withdrawals.
Cash withdrawals. Thousands of dollars at a time.
And checks made out to Linda Harrington.
"She's been paying you," I said, the pieces clicking into place. "And you've been giving it back. What kind of game is this?"
"Sarah, please—"
"Was it all a lie?" I asked. My voice cracked. "The money problems? The stress? Was any of it real?"
He ran a hand through his hair.
"I needed to control the finances," he said. "Linda said—"
"Linda said." I laughed. It sounded bitter and broken. "Of course she did."
I heard footsteps on the stairs.
My father appeared in the doorway.
"Everything okay?" he asked. Then he saw the papers in my hand. He saw Daniel's face.
"What's this?"
I handed him the bank statement.
He scanned it.
His expression didn't change.
But his knuckles turned white around the paper.
"Harrington Holdings," he said. "Your mother's company."
Daniel looked like he wanted to disappear.
"It's complicated," he said.
"It's fraud," my father said. "Or it will be, once my accountants finish with it."
He turned to me.
"Pack only what you need tonight. We'll send people back for the rest tomorrow."
I nodded.
I walked to our bedroom.
Emma was sitting on the bed, hugging her stuffed rabbit. Mr. Chen had stayed with her while the officers took my statement.
"Mommy?" she said. "Are we going to Grandpa's house?"
"Yes, baby," I said. "We're going to stay with Grandpa for a while."
"Is Daddy coming?"
I froze.
I looked at Daniel, who was standing in the doorway.
He looked at Emma.
"Of course Daddy's coming," he said. "Daddy just needs to fix some things first."
I didn't say anything.
I packed Emma's favorite pajamas. Her toothbrush. Mr. Floppy, the rabbit.
I packed my own things quickly. A few changes of clothes. My toothbrush.
I didn't take anything that reminded me of Daniel.
Not even the photograph of us on our wedding day.
When we walked back downstairs, Linda was talking to the officers.
She was pointing at me, gesturing wildly.
"She's unstable," I heard her say. "She's been violent before. I was defending myself."
My father stopped in front of her.
"Mrs. Harrington," he said. "I strongly suggest you stop talking. Every word you say is being recorded. And my attorney will make sure it's all used against you."
Linda's mouth snapped shut.
We walked to the door.
Daniel followed us out.
"Sarah," he said, as my father opened the car door. "Please. Let's talk tomorrow. Just the two of us."
I looked at him.
Really looked at him.
The man I'd married. The father of my child.
The man who'd chosen his mother over me.
The man who'd been lying about money for two years.
"There's nothing left to say," I told him.
I got in the car.
My father closed the door behind me.
As we pulled away from the house, I saw Daniel standing on the porch.
Linda came out and put her hand on his shoulder.
He didn't push her away.
I turned to look forward.
Emma was already asleep in her car seat, clutching Mr. Floppy.
My father drove in silence for a few minutes.
Then he said something that made my blood run cold.
"Sarah," he said. "There's something I need to tell you. About the Harringtons. About why I never liked them."
I looked at him.
"What is it?"
He took a deep breath.
"Daniel's father didn't die of a heart attack twelve years ago."
My stomach dropped.
May you like
"What?"
"He was murdered," my father said. "And Linda was the prime suspect."
