The customer name was Cole Whitmore, and the handwritten gift card tucked inside the receipt read: “To Sierra, with all my devotion.”

I held the thermal paper under the closet light for a full minute, comparing the numbers to our family bank statements in my head.

He had cut my monthly budget for groceries and the babies’ medicine to four hundred dollars while spending forty-one thousand two hundred dollars on a pearl and diamond necklace for his mistress three days before Christmas Eve.

I took my phone out of my sweater pocket and took four high-resolution photos of the velvet box, the necklace, and the itemized receipt, making sure the store timestamp, the credit line number, and Sierra’s name were perfectly clear.