Chapter 5 - Uncovering the Truth
I drove back home at noon, my hands gripping the steering wheel so hard my knuckles turned white.
When I walked through the front door, the house was quiet. A young woman was sitting on the living room rug with Theo and Jack, playing with plastic blocks.
Grant had hired a temporary agency babysitter after I left this morning—a desperate attempt to show me he was "fixing" the problem.
"Mrs. Miller?" the nanny asked, standing up politely. "I'm Brenda from the agency. Your husband hired me for the afternoon. He said he had an urgent business meeting downtown."
"Thank you, Brenda," I said, keeping my voice steady. "Please continue taking care of them. I'll be in the home office."
I walked into Grant’s home office and locked the door behind me.
I went straight to his desk. I opened his drawers, sifting through tax documents, old notebooks, and receipts. In the bottom drawer, hidden behind a stack of printer paper, I found a black leather binder.
I opened it.
Inside were bank statements, legal incorporation documents, and receipts for CR-Holdings LLC.
It wasn't an investment firm. It wasn't a client.
It was a private sports gambling venture.
Grant had joined an illegal, high-stakes sports betting syndicate organized by his friend Darren. Over the past six months, he had lost tens of thousands of dollars betting on college football and professional golf tournaments.
The reason he was at the golf course yesterday wasn't just to play a round—he was meeting Darren to settle a six-thousand-dollar debt he owed to the syndicate.
And to cover his losses, to hide his growing addiction, he had been draining our children's college funds and leaving our infants with Hallie so he could attend emergency syndicate meetings and place live bets.
I sat down in his office chair, holding the financial statements, tears streaming silently down my face.
The man I had loved for twelve years, the father of my three children, had sacrificed our daughter's childhood and our family's financial security to feed a secret addiction.
Suddenly, the front door opened downstairs.
I heard Grant’s footsteps walking into the foyer, his voice cheerful as he spoke to Brenda. "Thanks, Brenda! How were the boys?"
"They were great, Mr. Miller," Brenda replied. "Your wife is back, she's in the office."
Footsteps approached the office door. The brass handle jiggled.
"Sarah?" Grant’s voice came through the wood. "Are you in there? Why is the door locked?"
I took a deep breath, stood up, unlocked the door, and pulled it wide open.
May you like
I stood there holding the black binder in my hands.
Grant took one look at the binder, and every bit of color drained from his face.
