I looked at the dates printed next to each six-thousand-dollar entry.

The first wire went out three days after Mark sat at our kitchen table and insisted we couldn’t afford the deposit on my own design studio.

“How much money did Mark take from the joint account?” I asked, reading the numbers out loud to be sure.

“Forty-two thousand dollars, transferred straight to Vanessa’s business lease,” Rachel said, her voice precise and unemotional.

“He steadily drained your joint savings down to four hundred eighteen dollars.”