Mom, I need to go, Marcus said. But I’ll I’ll look into what you’re saying.
That’s all I ask.
And Marcus, the children are welcome to visit me anytime. I’m only 15 minutes away, and I have a foldout couch that’s very comfortable.
After I hung up, I sat in my quiet apartment and waited.
I knew that within the next few hours, Marcus would start looking through financial documents he probably hadn’t examined in years.
He would find the credit card statements, the store charge accounts, the subscription services for expensive beauty products.
He would realize that while he’d been working 60-hour weeks to keep the family afloat, his wife had been spending money they didn’t have on luxuries she didn’t need.
But more importantly, he would start to understand that the woman he’d trusted to manage their household had been systematically deceiving him for years.
I made myself a simple dinner of soup and salad, then settled on my small balcony with a cup of tea.
The evening air was warm, and I could hear children playing in the courtyard below.
For the first time in months, I felt like I could breathe freely.
My phone buzzed with a text message from an unknown number.
When I opened it, I saw a photo of a credit card statement with a balance of over $8,000.
The photo was followed by a message.
Found this in her jewelry box. How many more are there?
I smiled and typed back, “That’s just the beginning. Check the mail carefully tomorrow.” and Marcus look up the requirements for a business administration degree at State University. Asked to see her transcripts.
The seeds of doubt had been planted.
Now I just had to wait for them to grow.
The next few days passed quietly, but I could feel the tension building like pressure before a thunderstorm.
I went to work, came home to my peaceful apartment, and waited.
I knew that across town, Marcus was probably going through every piece of paperwork in his house, and Lillian was probably scrambling to contain a situation that was rapidly spiraling beyond her control.
On Friday evening, my phone rang again.
My phone.
This time, Marcus’ voice sounded different.
Tired, confused, angry.
Mom, I need to ask you something, and I need you to be completely honest with me.
I sat down the book I’d been reading and gave him my full attention.
Of course.
Did you know that Lillian never graduated from college?
I closed my eyes, feeling a mixture of satisfaction and sadness.
Satisfaction that the truth was finally coming out.
Sadness that my son was having to learn these things about the woman he’d married and trusted for 8 years.
I suspected, I said carefully, but I wasn’t certain until recently.
I called the registars’s office at State University. There’s no record of anyone named Lillian Morrison or Lillian Peterson. Her maiden name ever being enrolled there.
Not in any program, not in any year.
I waited, letting him process this information at his own pace.
The credit cards mom, there are four of them.
Four separate accounts with a combined balance of over $23,000.
She’s been paying the minimum balances with money from our checking account, but she listed her occupation as business consultant and used your old address from before dad died as her business address.
Oh, Marcus.
She’s been buying things, Mom. Expensive things.
Designer purses, jewelry, spa treatments, online courses for things like interior design, and personal shopping that she never mentioned to me.
There are charges for restaurants I’ve never been to, gas stations nowhere near our house or anywhere she would normally go.
I could hear the pain in his voice.
And despite everything Lillian had put me through, my heart achd for my son.
I’m so sorry you’re having to deal with this.
But that’s not even the worst part, he continued.
I found receipts in her car. She’s been meeting someone, a man. regular lunches at expensive restaurants, hotel charges, even a weekend spa trip that she told me was a girl’s getaway with her sister.
The emotional affair.
I’d suspected it, but hadn’t been able to prove it.
Lillian was too careful about her phone and computer for me to find any direct evidence, but apparently she hadn’t been as careful about covering her financial tracks.
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Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction created for entertainment purposes. Any resemblance to real persons, events, or places is coincidental.