Chapter 2 - The "Investment" Illusion
The cracking point came on a rainy Tuesday. Eleanor had left her Prada handbag open on the kitchen island. A bank receipt slipped out. My eyes caught the numbers, and my blood ran cold.
There were no mutual funds. No trust accounts for my unborn baby. There was just a massive wire transfer: $20,000 sent directly to a construction company in Ohio, where Julian’s deadbeat older brother, Marcus, lived.
Eleanor was using my husband’s blood, sweat, and tears to build a mansion for her favorite, jobless son.
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I confronted Julian that evening, my voice trembling. He didn't even look up from his phone. "Mom knows what she's doing, Sarah. Marcus is just going through a rough patch. Stop being so greedy and paranoid."
Greedy? Paranoid? I stared at the man I married. He wasn't a partner; he was a manipulated puppet. It was time to pull the strings myself.
