My Wife Stole My Credit Card for Her First Love

The lawyer wrote down all my claims as I requested and was about to negotiate with the police, but Rachel Summers stopped him.

“Daniel Wright!”

Rachel cut him off, her eyes locked on me. “Are you insane? Bigamy and illegitimate child? Do you realize how much damage you’re doing to me and Michael?”

“And you,” Rachel glared at the lawyer with disgust. “How much money did Daniel pay you to work for him?”

“Don’t you know I’m his wife? Every penny he spends is our joint property! You’re ridiculous trying to sue me with my own money!”

Michael Carter quickly joined in, pushing at the lawyer. “What gives you the right to sue me?”

“I’m also filing charges against Daniel for assault!” Michael covered half his face and glared at me. “Don’t blame Rachel for not loving you! You’ve always been so domineering—no woman would want a man like that!”

“You deserve to be alone forever!”

I listened to Michael’s rant and glanced at Rachel, who betrayed a flicker of guilt. What more did I need to understand?

Out of sight.

So that’s how Rachel thought of me.

If that was the case, why should I torture myself? I smiled at Michael, then looked at Rachel and nodded seriously.

“You’re absolutely right.”

Rachel, thinking Michael had persuaded me, was about to say, “You—”

But I cut her off.

“After all, I’m not like you,” I said, shifting the subject. “I’m not the kind of person who would ignore morals even if they were lying at my feet.”

I tapped my face.

“If you want to sue, go ahead.”

“But for now,” I added with a smile, “enjoy your fifteen days in detention—and the restitution.”

After all, I had bought a house to support Michael’s son’s schooling.

If repayment was required, Rachel would be ruined. I walked out of the station and climbed into Alex Hayes’s car. On the stereo, Sarah McLachlan’s I Will Remember You was playing softly. Her voice sang, “I will remember you, will you remember me?”

Alex handed me a green baseball cap and teased.

“Do you still like it?”

I stared at the cap in my hands and let out a bitter laugh. I ruffled Alex’s hair and muttered, “You looking to die? If not, just drive.”

I soon found myself sitting in the two-bedroom apartment Rachel had bought for Michael.

I looked around the place.

The setup was warm. A framed family photo hung in the living room: Rachel cradling Michael, with their child in front. The boy was still in elementary school and probably didn’t know his parents were now in police custody. My eyes fell on a stack of bills in the corner, showing the money Rachel had poured into Michael over the years.

From small sums—one dollar, a hundred dollars.

To larger sums—thousands, tens of thousands, even hundreds of thousands.

The total was staggering. I remembered how, after we married, Rachel spent less and less time with me, always repeating the same excuse: “I just want to become a better partner for you.”

Those words had muted all my resentment over our fading marriage. But then, I opened a drawer in the TV cabinet and found a USB drive. In bold marker, it read: Rachel & Michael.

I plugged the USB into the projector. The videos dated back to last year.

The Mid-Autumn Festival.

My parents and I had waited at our old house for Rachel the entire day. At last, she appeared, carrying mooncakes, apologizing, insisting she was too busy and asking us not to be upset.

Now, watching the footage on the USB, I felt myself sinking into ice.

On the screen.

Rachel knelt in front of Michael, flowers in her hands, eyes red as she whispered, “I didn’t say yes to your proposal back then, but today I’ll give you everything I once promised.”

“This house is the best proof of my love for you.”