I sat on the bed, staring at my laptop, willing the numbers to change. Maybe I miscalculated. Maybe there was a mistake. But no matter how many times I refreshed the page, the truth remained.

The savings account was empty.

Paul had saved nothing.

My breath hitched as I tightened my grip on the laptop. We had a promise—twenty percent of our income, set aside for our future. For a family. For security. And now, it was gone. Not just the money, but my trust in the man I married.

“Hey, babe,” I said, keeping my voice steady. “How much did you save this month?”

Paul glanced up, unreadable. “Uh… yeah, about that…”

A red flag.

I closed the laptop. “What do you mean?”

He sighed. “I didn’t save anything this month.”

My stomach twisted. “Okay, but last month?”

Silence.

“Paul,” I pressed. “When was the last time you saved anything?”

His jaw clenched. “Since we bought the house.”

Eighteen months.

“Are you serious?” I shot to my feet.

“I know!” he snapped. “But things have been tight—credit card bills, work lunches, Vegas—”

“You lied.”

Scrolling through his statements, my pulse pounded. Designer stores. Expensive restaurants. Cash withdrawals.

This wasn’t a mistake.

It was a choice.

A choice that shattered everything.