Chapter 4 - Eighteen Thousand Four Hundred Dollars
The money was supposed to be for our daughter.
That was the part I couldn't stop thinking about.
Not Andrew's family.
Not Janice's Facebook post.
Not even the awful words he'd said in my hospital room.
The money.
Eighteen thousand four hundred dollars.
We had saved it over three years.
I worked as an operations coordinator for a medical supply company. Andrew managed purchasing for his father's construction business.
We weren't poor.
But we weren't wealthy either.
We budgeted.
We skipped vacations.
I drove the same car for eight years.
Every month, I transferred money into an account labeled:
BABY AND EMERGENCY FUND.
Andrew had insisted that we keep everything together.
"Marriage is a partnership," he'd said.
I had believed him.
Now the balance was $312.64.
Leah looked at me.
"Did you know about this?"
"No."
"Could it have been a bill?"
"Not for that amount."
"Call the bank."
My hands shook as I reached for the phone.
The bank representative verified my information and confirmed the transfer.
It had gone from our joint account to Walter Monroe.
Andrew had initiated it.
I asked whether it could be reversed.
The representative explained that the transfer would need to be reviewed and discussed what options were available.
I requested copies of the account records.
Then I hung up.
Leah sat beside me.
"What now?"
I stared at the wall.
"I ask my husband why he took our daughter's money."
Andrew answered immediately.
"Rachel?"
"Where's the money?"
Silence.
"What money?"
"Eighteen thousand four hundred dollars."
He exhaled.
"Oh, that."
I closed my eyes.
"Oh, that?"
"It's complicated."
There was that word again.
"Explain."
"Dad needed some help."
"With what?"
"The business."
"What happened to the business?"
"Nothing. It's temporary."
I stared at my bandaged abdomen.
"Andrew, we saved that money for the baby."
"And we'll put it back."
"When?"
"After things settle down."
"After what settles down?"
He grew irritated.
"Rachel, I'm not doing this while you're emotional."
I felt something cold move through me.
"Emotional?"
"You just had surgery. You're tired. We can talk when you come home."
"You transferred our emergency savings without telling me."
"It's a joint account."
I swallowed.
He was right about that.
We both had access to it.
But access was not honesty.
"Why didn't you ask me?"
"Because I knew you'd react like this."
There it was.
The answer beneath every answer.
He had hidden it because he knew I would object.
"Andrew, what did your father need the money for?"
He hesitated.
Then his mother spoke in the background.
"Don't tell her anything else."
I froze.
"Is Janice there?"
Andrew didn't answer.
I heard another whisper.
Then he said, "I have to go."
The line went dead.
Again.
Leah looked at me.
I shook my head.
"His mother told him not to tell me."
"About the transfer?"
"Yes."
Leah pulled her chair closer.
"Rach, I think you need a lawyer."
I wanted to say she was overreacting.
I wanted to defend Andrew.
I wanted to explain that he'd always been careless about money, that his father had probably promised to repay him, that it was a misunderstanding.
But there was a difference between making excuses for someone and finding evidence that an excuse was true.
I had no evidence.
Only a missing savings account.
A hospital bracelet.
And a husband who kept hanging up on me.
Leah contacted a family-law attorney she knew through work.
Her name was Simone Harris.
Simone couldn't meet with me immediately, but she arranged a consultation for the following week.
She also encouraged me to preserve the information I already had and avoid making financial decisions while I was recovering.
That afternoon, I requested our bank statements.
I changed the passwords for my personal accounts.
I asked Leah to help me organize the hospital records, messages, and timeline of the night.
Not because I had decided to destroy Andrew.
Because I was frightened of how easily he'd changed the story.
If he could tell his mother I wasn't really in labor while I was begging for help, what else could he say?
At four o'clock, Janice arrived.
She was carrying a designer diaper bag.
A large white gift box.
And the expression of a woman who believed everyone else was being unreasonable.
A hospital staff member asked whether I wanted to see her.
I agreed to a brief conversation.
Janice entered smiling.
"There she is."
She leaned toward me.
I turned my face away.
Her smile tightened.
"Rachel, really."
I said nothing.
She placed the gift box on the chair.
"I thought we'd start fresh."
"Where's the money?"
Janice stopped.
"What?"
"Our savings."
She glanced at Leah.
"Is this really the time?"
"Yes."
"Andrew told you about that?"
"He told me your husband needed it."
Janice smoothed her blouse.
"Families help one another."
"With their permission."
"Don't be difficult."
I looked at her.
"I was in labor last night."
"Yes, and you're fine now."
I stared.
Fine.
I had a surgical incision.
Our daughter was still under observation.
And Janice wanted me to be fine.
She opened the diaper bag.
"I brought some beautiful outfits for the baby. We'll take her to the cabin once she's strong enough."
My stomach tightened.
"What cabin?"
Janice froze.
It lasted only a second.
Then she smiled again.
"Our family cabin."
"Andrew said his father needed the money for the business."
Her eyes shifted.
Leah noticed.
"So which is it?" she asked.
Janice closed the bag.
"I don't appreciate being interrogated."
I watched her carefully.
"What did you use our money for?"
She picked up her purse.
"You should focus on getting better."
Then she walked out.
I was still staring at the door when my phone vibrated.
A message from Olivia.
Andrew's younger sister.
We weren't close.
She usually followed her mother's lead.
But this message was different.
Rachel, I'm sorry. I didn't know what happened at the hospital until this morning.
A second message appeared.
Andrew lied about the money.
Then a screenshot.
It was a family group chat from the previous afternoon.
Walter had written:
The down payment is handled. Closing appointment is still tomorrow.
Janice replied:
Good. Don't tell Rachel where the money went until after she's discharged.
I stared at the screen.
A down payment.
A closing appointment.
Our emergency savings hadn't been used to rescue a struggling business.
May you like
They had been used to buy something.
And my husband's entire family had agreed to keep it from me.
