There was an apartment I had not known existed, funded from money I had believed was for our household.

Whether Patrick called it a portfolio acquisition or something else, I needed more than his version of it.

PART 2 — Thirty-Two Pages

At six fifteen that evening, Patrick’s car stopped in the driveway with the engine running.

I watched from behind the curtain.

He smiled at his phone, typed with both thumbs, and laughed.

For fourteen minutes, he stayed there.

I could not read the screen.