Chapter 2

The police told us to sort it out privately. I followed them back to Wesley' s rundown apartment complex. The place smelled like old cigarettes and desperation.

Inside, the furniture was cheap and mismatched. Kids' toys were scattered everywhere. I stood in the middle of the living room, feeling the rage build.

"Abandon you?" I said, my voice dangerously low. "Let's talk about abandonment, Gabrielle."

I pulled out my phone and started scrolling through my bank statements.

"I sent you twenty-five hundred dollars. Every single month. For three years. That's ninety thousand dollars, Gabby. Where did it go?"

She crossed her arms, refusing to look at me. "I had expenses."

"Expenses? What expenses? The mortgage was paid. The utilities were paid. I paid for all of it, directly from my account. That money was for you. For food, for clothes, for whatever you wanted."

I kept going, the words spilling out like poison.

"Remember when your father needed that back surgery after his accident? Who paid the twenty-thousand-dollar bill his insurance wouldn't cover? Me. Remember when your brother wanted to go to truck-driving school? Who paid his six-thousand-dollar tuition? Me."

I took a step closer. Wesley instinctively moved to shield her.

"I did all that so you could have a comfortable life. So you wouldn't have to worry about anything. And you call that abandonment?"

"Money isn't everything, Matthew!" she shrieked, her voice cracking. "I was lonely! Wesley was my emotional support!"

"Emotional support?" I laughed, a harsh, ugly sound. "Is that what you call sleeping with your high school boyfriend while your husband is a thousand miles away working to pay for your father's medical bills?"

Her face went pale. Wesley tensed up.

"He was there for me," she repeated, her voice weaker now. "He listened to me. He has kids, he understands family."

"He understands how to take my money, you mean," I shot back. "How much of my allowance did you give him?"

Silence. That was all the answer I needed. The disgust was so thick I could taste it. I looked at her, at this woman I thought I knew, and saw a complete stranger. A selfish, entitled child. My father' s face flashed in my mind-the man who gambled away our home, who betrayed my mother, who betrayed me. The same sickness was right here in this room.

"We're done," I said, the words feeling like stones in my mouth. "I want a divorce."