Chapter 2 - The Stolen Future
The next morning, the air was crisp and biting as I drove David to JFK International Airport. He was practically vibrating with nervous energy, tapping his fingers against the leather console of my car.
“I’ll call you the second I land,” he promised, leaning over the center console to pull me into a tight embrace. He smelled of expensive cologne and lies. “I love you, El. Hold down the fort.”
“Have a safe flight,” I replied, my voice perfectly hollow. I smiled, kissed his cheek, and stood by the glass doors, waving like a devoted wife until his tailored suit disappeared through the security checkpoint.
I walked back to the parking garage, the chill of the morning air biting through my trench coat. I climbed into the driver’s seat, resting my forehead against the steering wheel, trying to convince myself I would survive this forced isolation.
Then, the silence of the car was shattered by a sharp buzz from my purse.
I pulled out my phone. A premium banking notification lit up the screen. I glanced at it, expecting a coffee charge from the terminal. Instead, every muscle in my body instantly locked into place. The air vanished from my lungs.
Transaction Alert: -$15,000.00. Merchant: Zao Zero Diamond Boutique — Fifth Avenue, New York.
I stared at the glowing pixels. I read it again. Then a fifth time.
Fifteen thousand dollars. At one of Manhattan’s most exclusive, appointment-only jewelry stores.
David’s flight to Tokyo should have been boarding. He was supposed to be in a lounge at JFK, waiting to fly across the Pacific. An icy, absolute realization washed over me, freezing the blood in my veins. He wasn’t at the airport. He had walked through security and walked right back out another terminal. He was still in Manhattan. Buying diamonds.
The panic evaporated in a single heartbeat, replaced by a terrifying, crystalline clarity. But as I sat there, formulating a plan to freeze the cards, my phone buzzed again. This time, it was a notification from our joint high-yield savings account. The account we had locked away specifically for our upcoming, final round of IVF treatments.
Withdrawal Alert: -$45,000.00. Balance: $0.00.
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My breath hitched. The world outside the car window blurred into abstract colors. He hadn’t just bought a diamond. He had gutted our future—the children we were supposed to have—to pay for it.
I didn’t call the bank. I didn’t freeze the cards. As I put the car in drive, a dangerous smile crept onto my lips. Freezing the cards now would only make him turn around and come home. And I didn’t want him home. I wanted him to fall.
