Chapter 2: The Bag That Cost Everything
The next morning, I woke up feeling like I had lived through a nightmare.
Except the receipt was still sitting on my desk.
The evidence was real.
Twenty thousand dollars.
Gone.
Not stolen by a stranger.
Not lost through an accident.
Spent by my wife.
On a handbag.
I sat in my home office staring at the bank records until my coffee went cold.
The transaction history was worse than I expected.
The money wasn’t simply missing.
It had been moved intentionally.
Transferred from the account where I placed Malik’s tuition funds.
Then withdrawn.
Then used.
I printed everything.
Every transaction.
Every date.
Every amount.
By the time Jasmine walked into the kitchen that afternoon, I was waiting.
She immediately noticed the papers.
“Marcus…”
I placed the handbag on the counter.
The expensive brown leather bag she had been so proud of.
The one she posted online.
The one her friends had complimented.
The one purchased with my son’s education money.
Her face tightened.
“Where did you get that?””
“Your closet.””
She looked annoyed.
Not guilty.
Annoyed.
“You went through my things?””
“I was looking for the truth.””
She sighed.
“Marcus, this is becoming unhealthy.””
I stared at her.
“You spent twenty thousand dollars.””
“It wasn’t like that.””
“Then explain it.””
She opened her mouth.
Closed it.
Then grabbed the bag.
“You don’t understand.””
“Then help me understand.””
She put the bag down.
“This family has a certain image.””
I almost couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
“An image?””
“Yes.””
She walked around the kitchen.
“You own a successful company. We live in a beautiful house. People expect us to look successful.””
I stared at her.
“So my son’s tuition was sacrificed so you could look successful?””
Her expression turned cold.
“That’s not fair.””
“Fair?””
My voice rose.
“You called my son entitled because he asked about his education.””
She looked irritated.
“Malik needs to learn responsibility.””
I felt my chest tighten.
“He’s working while studying engineering.””
“He’s twenty.””
“And your son is twenty-two.””
Her eyes flashed.
“Don’t bring Jordan into this.””
There it was.
Jordan.
I had tried hard to treat Jasmine’s son like my own.
I helped him buy a car.
I paid for vacations.
I covered expenses when he refused to work.
I thought I was building a blended family.
But suddenly, I wondered if I had simply been funding one.
“Where is Jordan right now?”” I asked.
She frowned.
“Why?””
“Answer me.””
“He’s at home.””
“Doing what?””
She hesitated.
“Studying.””
I almost laughed.
Because I had seen Jordan’s gaming setup.
The expensive equipment.
The newest computer.
The constant food deliveries.
Meanwhile, Malik was skipping meals.
“I want access to every account,” I said.
Her face changed immediately.
“No.””
One word.
Instant.
“No?””
“You’re overreacting.””
“I’m protecting my family.””
She stepped closer.
“You’re accusing me of stealing.””
“I’m asking where my son’s money went.””
Her silence answered more than words could.
That evening, I went to see Malik.
He was sitting in his small apartment near campus.
The place looked nothing like what I expected.
A mattress on the floor.
Empty shelves.
A broken desk lamp.
“Dad,” he said when he opened the door.
I looked around.
And my heart sank.
“You’ve been living like this?””
He shrugged.
“It’s temporary.””
“Why didn’t you tell me?””
“Because you seemed happy.””
That hurt.
“My happiness doesn’t matter more than you.””
He looked down.
“I know.””
But I could tell he wasn’t sure.
I sat beside him.
“Tell me everything.””
He was quiet for a long time.
Then he finally spoke.
“Jasmine told me she had to use some of the money for an emergency.””
“What emergency?””
“She didn’t say.””
“And you believed her?””
He gave a small sad smile.
“I wanted to.””
The next morning, I confronted Jasmine again.
This time, I brought the documents.
She looked at the papers.
Then at me.
“You’re really doing this?””
“Doing what?””
“Destroying our marriage over your son.””
The words landed like a slap.
“My son?””
She shook her head.
“You know what I mean.””
“No.””
I stepped closer.
“I don’t.””
She looked away.
And then her phone buzzed.
She glanced at the screen.
Her entire face changed.
Fear.
Not anger.
Fear.
“Who is it?”” I asked.
She locked the phone immediately.
“No one.””
I held out my hand.
“Show me.””
“Marcus, stop.””
“Show me.””
She refused.
And that was when I knew.
The handbag wasn’t the biggest betrayal.
It was only the first thing I found.
May you like
Because whatever was on that phone had terrified her.
And I was about to discover why.
