Chapter 5: What Petra Found
Petra listened without interrupting.
That was the first thing I remembered about her — she never rushed you.
She let you say the whole thing before she said a word.
When I finished, she was quiet for a moment.
"How are your finances structured?" she said.
"Joint accounts, separate, both?"
"Joint for the household.
I have a small personal account I've kept since before we married.
Barrett handles most of the investments."
"Do you have access to the investment accounts?"
"Online, yes.
I've just never — I never looked closely."
"Look today," she said.
"Screenshot everything you can see.
Don't move anything.
Don't transfer anything.
Just document what's there."
"You think there's something wrong with the accounts?"
"I think when a spouse starts making the other spouse feel worthless," Petra said, "it's worth knowing what the money looks like."
I sat down at the kitchen table with my laptop.
What I found took me an hour to understand and about thirty seconds to feel.
Three investment accounts I knew about.
A fourth I didn't.
Opened fourteen months ago.
The contributions came from our joint household account — small amounts, irregular, the kind that wouldn't catch your eye if you weren't looking.
Twelve thousand dollars over fourteen months.
I called Petra back.
"There's an account I didn't know about," I said.
"Fourteen months old."
"In whose name?"
"His.
Only his."
She exhaled slowly.
"Okay.
Send me the screenshots.
Don't say anything to him yet."
"Petra.
Fourteen months ago is when he started — that's when the comments started.
About my age.
About how I looked."
"I know," she said quietly.
"He was already planning something."
"We don't know that yet.
But we're going to find out." A pause.
"Renee, do you want to save this marriage or do you want to protect yourself?"
I looked at the roses through the window.
"I want the truth," I said.
"I want to know exactly what he's been doing and exactly who he's been doing it with.
And then I'll decide."
"That's the right answer," Petra said.
"I'm going to recommend someone.
A private investigator I've worked with before.
She's thorough and she's discreet."
"A woman?"
"Her name is Sloane.
She's very good."
I wrote the name down on the notepad by the phone.
The same notepad where I used to leave Barrett grocery lists.
"One more thing," Petra said.
"Don't change your behavior at home.
Don't let him know you've looked at the accounts.
Act as normal as you can manage."
"How normal is normal?"
"Normal enough that he doesn't get careful."
I looked at the name on the notepad.
"All right," I said.
That evening, Barrett came home at the usual time.
He kissed me on the cheek.
He asked what was for dinner.
He sat at the table and talked about a meeting that had run long.
I listened.
I asked questions.
May you like
I passed him the bread.
And under the table, my hand was steady.
