When I Refused to Pay for Dinner, My Husband Threw Wine in My Face. He Never Expected What I Did Next.

I took screenshots of the full payment details, the account number’s last digits, and the exact timestamp.

I sent them to my private email account, one that Spencer had never managed or used.

“Are you seriously auditing me at dinner?” Spencer asked.

I locked the phone.

“I’m documenting a transaction I didn’t recognize.”

Gertrude gave a thin laugh.

“You really are incapable of acting like a wife.”

I looked at her and thought of all the evenings I had given up to sort her paperwork, all the messages I had answered about her refrigerator or her landlord, and the bills I had paid when Spencer insisted she needed help.