After my shift, I met Rebecca with a folder full of screenshots, statements, and three years of tax returns pulled from our shared cloud drive. She mapped out what I could document immediately: marital funds, probable infidelity, deceptive financial behavior, and misuse of shared assets. Then she asked the question that made my chest tighten.
“Do you know who the woman is?”
I didn’t. Not yet.
But by evening, I did.
Her name was Lauren Mercer. Twenty-nine. Former pharmaceutical sales rep. Ethan had been paying the rent on a downtown apartment under an LLC I’d assumed was tied to one of his suppliers. Rebecca’s investigator found the lease, the utility bills, and photos from social media that Lauren had kept mostly private—except for one tagged image from seven months earlier. Ethan’s hand rested on her pregnant belly.
The caption read: Building our little future.
Our little future.
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