But instead I found something that changed everything. There was an email confirmation open on the screen. It was for a luxury apartment rental in Oak Brook, a suburb about forty minutes from our house.
The apartment was fully furnished and the contract duration was exactly two years.
Two registered residents were listed on the agreement. Matthew Ellison. And another name. Stephanie Dalton.
There was also a short note from the property manager written at the bottom of the message.
“Please include a crib in the master bedroom as requested.”
A crib.
For several seconds I simply stared at the screen without breathing. Then I began reading every single line carefully, making sure my eyes were not deceiving me.
The lease start date was the exact same day as his supposed flight to Seattle. He was not moving across the country. He was moving less than an hour away from our home.
And there was something else even worse. Stephanie Dalton was pregnant. I leaned back slowly in the chair and felt the air leave my lungs. My mind immediately jumped to the joint account we shared at a private bank branch on Michigan Avenue.
The balance was approximately $650,000. Most of that money came from the inheritance my parents left me after they d/ie/d in a car accident on a highway near Madison years earlier. Matthew had once insisted that we combine our finances into one joint account because, as he said at the time, married couples should operate with complete transparency.
At that moment everything suddenly made sense. His plan was simple and cruel at the same time. He would pretend to build a life in Seattle while gradually transferring money from our joint account to support his new partner and their child without me ever suspecting anything.
The day of the airport departure arrived quickly.
At O’Hare International Airport he hugged me tightly in front of the departure gates.
“This is for us,” he whispered softly.
I cried while holding him. But I was not crying because I would miss him. I was crying because I already knew the truth.
When I watched him walk through the security checkpoint, I knew he would not be boarding a flight to Seattle. I was certain that he would exit the terminal through another door and call a ride to Oak Brook where his secret apartment was waiting.
That was the moment I made my decision.