I found out the house wasn’t under both our names like I thought. It was only in his. The joint savings account? It only had $412. Meanwhile, I discovered he’d taken out a credit card in my name two years ago. The balance? $4,376.
My stomach flipped. I felt stupid. Used. But mostly, I felt tired.
I didn’t say anything. Not yet.
Instead, I visited the bank. Moved the $15,000 into a new account with only my name. Set up fraud alerts. Then I sat down with a family lawyer. She was kind. Sharp. She listened without judging and gave me a list of my options.
I didn’t want to blow up the kids’ lives. They were innocent. But I also couldn’t pretend anymore.
So I made a plan.
One night, I told Grayson I needed a weekend to myself. He looked confused but agreed. Said he’d “manage.” I took a small bag and went to my cousin’s place across town. It was peaceful there. Quiet.
I used that time to write a letter of my own.
When I returned Sunday night, the house looked the same. But I was different.
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