Chapter 2 - Eighty-Four Thousand Dollars
Ethan locked the phone before Claire could see the message.
“Work,” he said.
Claire’s smile faded so slightly most people would have missed it.
“On a Saturday?”
“Yeah.”
“You hate your job on weekdays.”
Noah squirmed in her arms. Claire set him down, and he immediately toddled toward the coffee table to inspect the remote as if confirming it had not escaped.
Ethan turned to the laundry basket and began unloading towels he did not need to unload.
His phone buzzed again.
CALL ME. NOW.
Claire leaned against the kitchen counter. “Ethan.”
“What?”
“Look at me.”
He did.
She studied him for a long second. “Are we okay?”
The question landed harder than the text.
“Of course we are.”
“That wasn’t what I asked.”
Ethan lowered his voice. “Can we not do this in front of Noah?”
“He’s two. He thinks the dishwasher is a robot.”
Noah slapped the remote onto the table and announced, “Robot.”
Claire almost laughed, but didn’t.
“I’m serious,” she said. “You haven’t slept. You’ve been checking the bank app every morning. You jumped when I mentioned the mortgage yesterday.”
Ethan felt his chest tighten.
Three weeks ago, the construction company where he worked had lost its biggest contract. Two days later, twenty-seven people had been called into a conference room.
Ethan had walked out without a job.
He had told Claire nothing.
Because he had savings.
Because he had a plan.
Because every morning he thought he could fix it before she ever had to know.
Then his older brother, Ryan, had called with an “investment opportunity” and a promise: thirty days, guaranteed return, family only.
Ethan had transferred money from a business account he and Claire had created for their future renovation company.
Eighty-four thousand dollars.
Most of it was gone.
The phone rang.
Ryan.
Claire saw the name.
“Why is your brother calling you?”
Ethan answered too quickly. “I’ll call him back.”
Claire’s eyes narrowed.
From the hallway came a sudden crash.
Both of them ran.
Noah stood beside a half-open console drawer, staring at a stack of papers scattered across the floor.
On top was a bank statement.
Claire bent to pick it up.
Ethan saw the red transfer line before she did.
Her eyes stopped on the number.
$84,000.00.
May you like
Then she whispered, “What did you do?”\n\nClaire picked up one of the fallen blocks and handed it back to Noah. Her hands were steady, but Ethan knew that look. It was the same expression she wore in emergencies: calm first, collapse later. He had seen it when Noah split his chin at daycare and when her mother went into surgery.
Now she was using it on him.
