Chapter 5 - Seventy-Five Thousand Dollars
Grace stared at the spreadsheet until the numbers blurred.
“Ethan didn’t tell me about seventy-five thousand dollars.”
Mark sat across from her kitchen table.
“I figured.”
“Where did you find this?”
“Sabrina kept a private cloud folder.”
“And you have access?”
“Our accountant recovered documents while separating finances.”
Grace looked again.
Ethan Mercer — $75,000.
A date.
Six months before the affair began.
That mattered.
“What if this proves he was involved with her longer?”
“I don’t know.”
Grace’s hands began trembling.
She called Ethan.
He answered immediately.
“Is Sophie okay?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“Come over.”
Ten minutes later, Ethan stood in the kitchen.
Grace pushed the spreadsheet toward him.
“What is this?”
He read it.
His face changed.
“Where did you get this?”
“Mark.”
Ethan looked at him.
Mark nodded.
“Explain,” Grace said.
Ethan pulled out a chair.
“This wasn’t a payment to me.”
“It says your name.”
“It was a vendor rebate.”
Grace stared.
“You’re going to have to do better than that.”
Ethan explained.
The company had negotiated refunds from a logistics vendor after a billing dispute. Ethan had managed the account. Seventy-five thousand dollars was returned to Mercer Financial under his project code.
“That isn’t my bank account.”
Mark frowned.
“Can you prove that?”
“Yes.”
Ethan pulled out his phone and emailed Grace an old finance statement.
The amount matched.
The company—not Ethan—had received the money.
Grace exhaled.
Then she noticed something else.
“Why would Sabrina list it beside personal transfers?”
Ethan studied the document.
His expression changed.
“She was mapping project codes.”
“What?”
“These aren’t payments.”
He pointed.
“They’re transactions connected to Northstar.”
Mark leaned forward.
Ethan traced several lines.
“This is a map of internal financial flows.”
Grace stared.
“So?”
“So Sabrina may have been collecting confidential information longer than anyone knew.”
Mark looked sick.
“She did this before the affair.”
Ethan nodded.
“Months before.”
The implication was clear.
Sabrina had targeted Ethan professionally first.
Grace looked at him.
“You really were useful to her.”
Ethan laughed bitterly.
“Yes.”
Mark took the folder.
“I’m sending this to investigators.”
The discovery deepened the case.
More importantly, it changed Ethan’s role.
Compliance confirmed Sabrina had begun collecting information from multiple employees months before becoming involved with Ethan.
He had not been her only target.
Another manager admitted she had cultivated a friendship with him and repeatedly asked questions outside her responsibilities.
A junior analyst said Sabrina pressured her to share restricted files.
The affair had been partly opportunistic.
That knowledge did not absolve Ethan.
Grace made sure he understood that.
They sat in a family therapist’s office two weeks later.
Grace had agreed to one session.
Not reconciliation.
One session.
The therapist, Dr. Helen Brooks, asked:
“What would you need from Ethan to consider rebuilding trust?”
Grace answered immediately.
“Nothing.”
Ethan’s face fell.
Dr. Brooks did not react.
“Nothing?”
“Because I don’t know if I want to rebuild.”
“That is different.”
Grace looked at Ethan.
“He keeps acting like if he does enough correct things, I’ll come back.”
Ethan said, “I’m not trying to pressure you.”
“You bring groceries.”
“For Sophie.”
“You fixed the bathroom faucet.”
“It was leaking.”
“You still pay half the rent.”
“My name is on the lease.”
Grace sighed.
“See?”
Dr. Brooks looked at Ethan.
“What is Grace saying?”
He thought carefully.
“That I’m performing husband while she hasn’t decided whether I still am one.”
Grace’s eyes filled.
“Yes.”
Ethan nodded.
“I understand.”
Dr. Brooks asked, “Can you stop?”
He looked at Grace.
“Yes.”
And he did.
The next week, Ethan did not show up unless it involved Sophie.
He did not bring flowers.
Did not send long apologies.
Did not ask whether Grace missed him.
He simply became reliable.
Tuesday, six o’clock.
Thursday, six o’clock.
Saturday morning.
He fed Sophie.
Changed diapers.
Washed bottles.
Then left.
Grace noticed.
She hated that she noticed.
Three months passed.
Sophie grew.
Her cheeks became round.
Her lungs strengthened.
Grace returned to part-time work as an elementary-school counselor.
Being around children helped.
One afternoon she came home and found Ethan asleep on the couch with Sophie on his chest.
He had one hand protectively over her back.
The sight hurt in a different way.
He looked like the man Grace had married.
That was dangerous.
She woke him gently.
“You should put her in the bassinet.”
He sat up.
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
He transferred Sophie.
Then stood.
“I’ll go.”
Grace hesitated.
“You can stay for dinner.”
Ethan froze.
“For dinner?”
“Don’t make it weird.”
“I won’t.”
He absolutely made it weird by looking terrified every time their hands came near each other.
Grace almost laughed.
They ate pasta.
Talked about Sophie.
Nothing else.
At the end, Ethan washed his plate.
Grace said, “You can leave that.”
“I know.”
“I mean it.”
“So do I.”
He washed it anyway.
At the door, Grace asked:
“Do you regret her?”
Ethan went still.
“Yes.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
He turned.
“What do you mean?”
“Do you regret Sabrina, or do you regret getting caught?”
He thought.
“I regret becoming the kind of man who could walk into that office knowing you were home carrying our baby and still choose someone else.”
Grace swallowed.
“Would you have stopped if I hadn’t walked in?”
The hardest question.
Ethan answered honestly.
“I don’t know.”
Tears filled her eyes.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For not lying.”
He nodded.
Then Grace asked the second question.
“Do you still love me?”
“Yes.”
No hesitation.
“Okay.”
He waited.
Grace opened the door.
“That’s all.”
He left.
An hour later, Grace received an email from Sabrina.
Not a letter.
Evidence.
Sabrina had reached a plea agreement in the corporate investigation.
Attached was a document.
A list of every internal contact she had cultivated.
Grace scanned it.
Ethan’s name appeared.
Beside it Sabrina had written:
Emotionally vulnerable. Responds strongly to admiration. Married. Wife pregnant.
Grace’s stomach twisted.
Then below:
Do not involve personally. Too risky.
That line was dated three weeks before their first kiss.
A later note replaced it.
Boundary crossed.
Grace stared at those two words.
Boundary crossed.
Not stolen.
Not forced.
Crossed.
By both of them.
That night, Grace finally removed her wedding ring.
She placed it in a small box.
May you like
Not because she had decided to end her marriage.
Because she needed to know who she was without wearing the symbol of it.
