How dare Eleanor set him up like that? He stepped outside, gulped in the cold air, and walked toward his car almost without thinking.
He got in, slammed the door, and sat there for several minutes gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles went white. What the hell had just happened? Yesterday everything had felt under control. He had taken the card, put Eleanor in her place, shown her who was in charge.
And today? Today he had made a fool of himself in a grocery store like some washed-up loser. Mark pulled out his phone and opened the banking app.
He logged into the joint household account—the one where Eleanor’s paycheck landed, where the family savings had sat. The balance loaded, and he stared at the number in disbelief. $1,500. Just $1,500 instead of the $31,000 that had been there the week before when he last checked.
Where had the money gone? Twenty-nine thousand five hundred dollars had simply vanished. He frantically opened the transaction history.
The last transaction was from three days earlier. A transfer of nearly the full amount. The recipient: Eleanor Parker.
But not their usual account. A different one—an account number Mark had never seen before. So she had opened a new account, moved all the money, and said nothing. For three days she had said nothing, knowing he would take the card, knowing he would walk straight into this.
Mark slammed his fist against the steering wheel, then again and again. The pain in his knuckles was almost welcome. It distracted him from the fury and helplessness boiling inside him. He called Eleanor again.
It rang and rang. No answer. He called again. Same thing. On the third try, she sent him to voicemail.
“Unbelievable,” Mark muttered through clenched teeth. “Unbelievable.” He started the car and pulled out of the lot so fast he nearly cut off another driver.
The other driver honked, but Mark barely noticed. One thought pounded in his head: home. Get home. Deal with Eleanor. Make her put the money back. On the way, his phone rang. He glanced at the screen. Julie.
His mistress. His “sweetheart.” His new life. The one he had been planning to step into after divorcing Eleanor and starting over clean. “Hey,” he said, trying to make his voice sound normal.
“Hey, honey, how’s your day?” Julie’s voice came through bright and a little breathy. “Can you stop by later? I found a package for us in the Maldives and wanted to show you. January departure, right when you said you’d have vacation time.”
“Julie, not now,” Mark cut in. “I’ve got a situation. I’ll call you later.” “What kind of situation?” she asked immediately. “Work?”
“No, it’s…” Mark stopped, not knowing how to explain. “Family stuff. Don’t worry, I’ll handle it. We’ll talk tonight, okay?”
“Family stuff?” Julie’s voice cooled. “You said this was almost over. You said you were going to talk to her, get things settled, and then we…” “Julie, please,” Mark said, feeling a headache start to pulse at his temple.
“Not now. I’m already at my limit. Just give me a little time, okay?” She was quiet for a moment, then said sharply, “Fine. But you promised, Mark. I’m tired of waiting.” Then she hung up.
Mark swore and tossed the phone onto the passenger seat. Everything was falling apart. Every plan he had made was collapsing in real time. And all because Eleanor had turned out to be smarter than he gave her credit for.
He pulled into their subdivision and parked badly, not even checking the lines. He jumped out, slammed the door, and hurried to the front door. Upstairs, he jammed the key into the lock with shaking hands.
The house was silent. Eleanor wasn’t in the living room, the kitchen, or the bedroom. Mark went from room to room, checked the bathroom—empty. Only a note sat on the entry table in her neat handwriting: “Out taking care of a few things. I’ll be home late. Don’t wait for dinner.”
Mark crumpled the note and threw it into a corner. Then he sat down on the couch and put his head in his hands. What now? What was he supposed to do?
