“…unless you’re willing to send Zeke to jail.” The realization clicks in her eyes. She looks away for a beat, thinking, then back at me. “Do it.”
I blink. “Just like that?”
She lifts a shoulder, but there’s nothing casual about it. “Stella would rather keep her kids safe than watch us drown. We’re not saving him at our expense.” She reaches into her pocket. “I’ll call her and-”
“I already told her,” I say, looking at her in a completely different light. “And you’re right. She said the exact same thing.”
Brooke blinks once, then her jaw tightens. “You told her before you toldme?”
“I was trying to save your relationship,” I say, too quickly.
“My relationship?” she snaps, pointing a finger at her chest. Her voice isn’t raised, but the quiet edge in it slices clean through me. “You had no right.”
My jaw locks. “I’m your husband.”
“And what if she’d said no?” Brooke fires back without missing a beat. “What if she’d asked you not to report? What would you have done then?”
“But she didn’t,” I say, not understanding why she’s fixating on that.
Brooke steps closer, eyes sharp and furious. “What if she had, Matthew?” she repeats, slower this time, like she wants me tofeelevery word. “Would you have eaten the twenty-eightthousand dollars? Or gone against her? What the hell were you thinking?”
“Well, she didn’t,” I say, sharper than I mean to. “Anyway, I’m gonna file the report first thing tomorrow and-”
She cuts me off before I can finish. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
I tilt my head slightly, caught off guard.
“Not just about the theft,” she says, “abouthanging out with Zeke. Why keep him a secret from me, Matthew? Why don’t you trust me?”
I open my mouth then close it again, honesty will not win me any points here.
Chapter Twenty-One
Brooke
Now this isn’t something I’m bringing up in the heat of the moment. This isn’t some offhanded comment meant to wound.
This is something I’ve been thinking about for a long time.
Ever since I decided I wanted answers.
And realized I can’t get them.
Literally can’t.
When we found out I was pregnant, Matthew moved me in here before my first appointment. And I was grateful. God, I still am. He took care of everything, the lease, the furniture, the bills. He told me I didn’t have to worry, and I believed him. I let myself believe him.
Apart from a credit card with my name on it and a spot on the lease, I quite literally know nothing else. Nothing about the savings. Nothing about the mortgage. Nothing about the bills that keep this roof over our heads.
Matthew said he’d take care of it. And he did. So, I never questioned him.
I’m not saying he financially isolated me, not on purpose. But lately… the edges of his worldview are starting to come into focus. The way he sees women. The way he seesme.
He does the housework, takes care of Penny, babies me like I’m still pregnant. But when it comes to making decisions,realdecisions, especially about money, he just… takes the wheel.
And when I call him on it, he says, “Idotrust you. God, I had a baby with you.”
I let out a shaky breath. “Having a baby and being partners aren’t the same thing,” I say quietly. “God, that’s how you see me, isn’t it? I’m just like Penny to you. Someone to take care of because they’re too weak to take care of themselves.”
