Mine, I said. Through my grandmother’s trust.

Only yours?

Yes.

And the prenup?

Still valid.

Her tone sharpened. Good. Do not warn him. Send me every photo you took. Then open your banking apps.

I did.

That was betrayal number two, hidden beneath the first.

Over the previous six months, Miguel had been moving money out of our joint account in uneven amounts, small enough to avoid notice while I traveled. Paint store charges. Furniture deposits. Boutique baby shop receipts. Medical co-pays. A stroller. A crib mattress. There were also restaurant charges from places he had never taken me, weekend hotel charges during business trips he claimed were canceled, and a transfer from our fertility savings fund labeled family expenses that made me physically sick.