Chapter 6: The Six-Thousand-Dollar Secret
Monica's face had lost its color.
Darius held the receipt in one hand and his phone in the other. The kitchen lights reflected in the screen as he opened their banking app.
“Six thousand dollars,” he repeated.
“Yesterday afternoon.””
Monica crossed her arms.
“It was a personal expense.””
“From our joint account?””
“Yes.””
“Without telling me?””
She lifted her chin.
“I'm your wife, Darius. I shouldn't need permission for every dollar I spend.””
“Six thousand dollars isn't a dollar.””
“Don't patronize me.””
Darius turned the phone toward her.
“Where did it go?””
Monica looked at the screen, then toward the dining room.
“I transferred it to another account.””
“Whose account?””
“Mine.””
He stared at her.
“Why?””
“Because I wanted to have money of my own.””
“You have your own account.””
“Not enough.””
Darius let out a slow breath.
“How much did you move into it?””
She hesitated.
“How much, Monica?””
“Eighteen thousand.””
His mouth fell open.
“Eighteen thousand dollars?””
“Over time!””
“From our joint account?””
“Some of it was mine!””
“Then show me the transfers.””
Monica snatched a dish towel from the counter and began folding it, pressing each edge into a precise line.
“I don't have to stand here and justify my finances while your mother watches.””
I remained seated, my hands clasped in my lap.
“I'm not asking you about your finances,” I said.
“I'm asking why you told me my son needed money when you were moving money out of his account.””
Monica dropped the towel.
“Because you were willing to help!””
“That doesn't answer my question.””
“Because I knew you'd give it to me!””
Her shout startled Malik.
He pressed against my side, and I wrapped an arm around him.
Darius went still.
Monica seemed to realize what she had admitted. She lowered her voice, then tried to recover.
“I mean, you love your son. You would do anything for him. I knew you'd want to make Thanksgiving special.””
“Did you know I'd sell my wedding ring?”” I asked.
She didn't respond.
“Did you know I stood at that counter and cried because I thought I had no other choice?””
Monica looked at the floor.
“Loretta, I didn't think—”
“You didn't think I'd be hurt?””
“I thought you'd understand.””
I nodded slowly.
“That is what frightens me most.””
Darius moved to the kitchen island and opened the banking app again.
“I'm checking every transfer,” he said.
Monica stepped toward him.
“Don't do that.””
He looked up.
“Why?””
“Because you won't understand the context.””
“Then explain the context.””
She grabbed her phone and began tapping rapidly.
“Fine. I'll show you.””
She opened a folder of financial statements and held the screen toward him.
“There. I transferred the money because I was planning ahead.””
“For what?””
“For our future.””
Darius examined the screen.
The transactions showed repeated transfers into an account under Monica's name. Some were small. Others were several thousand dollars at a time.
He scrolled back through the dates.
His expression darkened.
“These started eight months ago.””
Monica nodded defensively.
“I was saving.””
“Why didn't you tell me?””
“Because you spend money without thinking about the future.””
“I've never hidden our finances from you.””
“That's because you make enough money to feel comfortable!””
Darius shook his head.
“We agreed to discuss major expenses together.””
“And I agreed to be your wife, not your employee!””
Her voice rose again.
Malik covered one ear.
I gently rubbed his back.
“It's all right, sweetheart.””
He whispered, “I don't like when Mom shouts at you.””
I kissed his forehead.
“Neither do I.””
Across the kitchen, Darius was still scrolling.
Then he stopped.
“What is this payment?””
Monica glanced at the phone.
“Which one?””
“Four thousand eight hundred dollars. Last month.””
“A bill.””
“What bill?””
“A personal bill.””
He turned the screen toward her.
“Why does the recipient's name say Westbridge Storage?””
Monica's expression changed.
It was subtle, but I saw it.
Her fingers tightened around her purse strap.
“That's none of your concern.””
Darius looked up slowly.
“You've been paying for a storage unit?””
“It's temporary.””
“What's in it?””
“Things.””
“What things?””
She shook her head.
“I cannot believe you're doing this to me.””
He placed the phone on the counter.
“I'm asking what's in the storage unit.””
Monica looked toward the dining room again, as if hoping one of the guests might return and interrupt the conversation.
Nobody came.
“It's personal,” she repeated.
Darius's voice dropped.
“Is there something in that unit that belongs to my mother?””
I looked up.
Monica's eyes met mine.
For the first time since I had entered the house, she looked genuinely afraid.
“No,” she said too quickly.
Darius noticed.
“Then you'll have no problem showing me.””
“Not today.””
“Why not?””
“Because I said so!””
Darius stood motionless.
I had never seen him look at his wife with such complete uncertainty.
“Monica,” he said, “what have you been keeping in that storage unit?””
She pressed her lips together.
Then she whispered, “You need to stop asking questions.””
“Why?””
“Because if you find out what's in there, you won't understand why I did it.””
Darius took his phone from the counter.
“Then we're going to find out.””
Monica lunged forward and grabbed his wrist.
“Don't you dare call anyone!””
He looked down at her hand.
“Let go.””
She released him.
For a moment, the only sound was the refrigerator humming beside the pantry.
Then Malik tugged at my sleeve.
“Grandma?””
“Yes, sweetheart?””
“What's Westbridge Storage?””
I swallowed.
“I don't know, baby.””
He looked at the phone in his father's hand.
“Maybe it's where Mom put the things she doesn't want us to see.””
Monica stared at him.
“Go to your room.””
“No,” Malik whispered.
Darius crouched beside his son.
“Buddy, I need you to stay with Grandma for a minute.””
Malik nodded and took my hand again.
Darius straightened and looked at Monica.
“Give me the address.””
She shook her head.
“I won't.””
“Then I'll find it in the transaction records.””
He turned toward the counter, but Monica suddenly spoke.
“Darius, please.””
He stopped.
Her voice had changed. The anger was gone, replaced by something much closer to desperation.
“If you go to that storage unit, everything we've built could fall apart.””
Darius stared at her.
“What exactly have we built?””
Monica's eyes filled with tears.
She opened her purse, pulled out a small brass key, and placed it on the kitchen island beside the pawn-shop receipt.
“Take it,” she whispered.
Darius picked up the key.
A white plastic tag hung from its ring.
Written across it in black marker were the words:
*WESTBRIDGE STORAGE — UNIT 214.*
He looked at the key, then at his wife.
“What am I going to find in there?””
Monica's lips trembled.
She glanced at me, then at Malik.
May you like
And finally, she whispered the one sentence that made my blood run cold.
“Everything I took from your mother before Thanksgiving.””
