Chapter 3
BECCA
Idon’t stop walking until I’m past the gates and onto a quiet sidewalk. The night air is cool under the wide sky. Each step puts more space between me and Sam, and that’s the only thing keeping me steady right now.
I’m still pissed, fuming really, but I’m turning that into something useful: a plan. I need that more than I need to cry.
Only our dreams funneled straight into her hands.
Before I can spiral fully, headlights flash across my legs. Mack pulls up in her black Acura MDX and leans across the passenger seat. “Get in.”
I do. My fingers shake as I buckle up.
“Thanks for coming,” I say quietly, in between my ragged breathing.
She glances at me. “You were supposed to be at the Hughes Summer Kick-Off, right?”
I nod. “I was. I left.”
Silence.
“Sam … he …” I can’t even say it.
Mack doesn’t push. She hits a red light and taps out a message on her phone. “Phoenix and Vanessa are coming. Chinese or pizza?”
Tears sting the backs of my eyes, but I force them down. My life may be unraveling, but this, this sisterhood, is still intact.
“Chinese,” I say, my voice hoarse. “With egg rolls.”
She nods and turns the radio up a notch. We drive in silence, the hum of the engine a buffer between me and total collapse. I stare out the window, jaw clenched.
Sam and I built that account dollar by dollar. The cabins were our dream. My dream. And he gave it away. Without a word.
"What is this, Becs—tofu?” Sam leans over the pan, suspicious. “You trying to kill me?”
I roll my eyes and slide a plate across the counter. “Just try it. I got everything on clearance and came in $23 under budget. That goes straight into the cabin fund, so … suck it up, buttercup.”
He takes a bite. Chews. Doesn’t complain, just drowns it in hot sauce like the savage he is.
“Tastes like success,” he says, grinning around another forkful. “You’ve added, what, almost a grand in the last few months just by slashing the grocery bill?”
I nod. Before I can say more, he sets down his plate. Then he walks over and lifts me right off the ground and onto the kitchen island.
“You’re incredible,” he murmurs, kissing a slow trail down my neck. “I couldn’t do any of this without you.”
Phoenix and Nessa pull into the driveway with crinkling takeout bags and silent hugs. No one says a word. No questions, only the quiet clatter of chopsticks and the soft pop of a wine cork.
They serve my favorite meal without asking: extra egg rolls, beef and broccoli, and jasmine rice. Then they pour wine into mismatched glasses. The silence around the table thickens. I draw a breath like I’m prepping for a boardroom pitch instead of delivering the details of my imploding life.
“Sam gave our entire savings, $75,000, to Holly,” I say flatly. “So she can open her own salon.” I scoff and continue. “And I guess Mandy too. Apparently, she’s one of his favorite girls.”
Chopsticks freeze. Eyes widen. It’s like someone pulled the fire alarm.
I keep going, voice detached, like it’s someone else’s story: the overheard conversation, the gut-punch of hearing only money leave his mouth. Not to mention the assumption I have nowhere else to go.
Phoenix is the first to speak. “Are you sure you heard him right? You said his back was to you …”
I already have the banking app open. I hold up the screen: balance $37.82. Transfer: Holly Hughes. Two days ago.
Nessa shoots out of her chair. “That alpha-hole!
And for a half-baked salon fantasy? Is this a Hallmark movie?
A woman has a dream but no qualifications.
Plus, there's a ditzy girl in love with her best friend's older brother!
I mean, in fairness, I would watch that Christmas special, but I digress. "
Mack leans in, eyes hopeful. “Can you reverse the transfer? Like, if you call the bank? Does he even have the authority to transfer that kind of money without your knowledge?”
“Nope, no reversal. I already looked it up,” I say between depressing bites.
“And yes, unfortunately, he can. It’s a joint account, we both have ownership of it.
" I pause, realizing something. "Sam knows I check the account during our monthly money dates. He sent it last week. Perfectly timed to buy himself a way to explain this.”
A silence settles. Then Mack speaks again, practical and steady. “Okay. First things first—do you need help covering anything this month? I’ve got a little saved, if it helps tide things over.”
God, these women.
“No, we’re okay,” I say softly. “We live lean. We’ve got a little saved in an untouched emergency fund; I checked.
All the household bills are covered. Plus, both of us are still working.
" I pause, thinking. "Actually, I’m not sure if that’s true.
Sam is starting work on the salon, which he is definitely not getting paid for.
If his other job is finished up, he might not be receiving a paycheck for a little while.
Damn him." I take a deep breath. "But no, Mack, even with my idiot husband's stupid financial choice, we can still pay our bills. Thank you, though."
Mack nods, her tension easing.
Phoenix frowns, swirling her wine. “I just … don’t get it. That man is obsessed with you. The way he looks at you? Like you invented oxygen. I know Mandy is just a hanger-on.”
“Yeah,” I say. “You’d think that meant I could trust him.” Love and safety aren’t always the same thing. I learned that early.
They nod. They know my history. I've shared bits and pieces before. My grandpa drained all the accounts and then vanished. My mom spent a year couch-surfing at twelve years old. Financial instability runs in my blood like a second unwanted inheritance.
Despite that example, my mom never educated herself about money. To this day, she follows one piece of bad advice after another.
My chest aches. I press the wine glass to my lips and pretend I’m not shaking. “And I know there’s nothing between him and Mandy, as much as she tries. After Holly’s accident, Mandy has stayed close to her, and I know he only sees her as an extension of his sister.”
My friends nod. At least there's one infidelity I don't worry about. As I’m starting to spiral, Nessa chimes in.
“What’s the move?” she asks, perched on the edge of Mack’s couch. “If you want to go nuclear, I’ll grab the bleach and a pair of his favorite jeans. Subtle revenge? We dye his hair just enough that he thinks he’s going gray.”
I manage a laugh. “Please. He’d look even hotter gray. That’s only adding to my problems.”
“I knew it.” Mack shakes her head, smirking. “We’ve got a Capricorn on our hands. Needs exactly twenty-three minutes to wallow and then it’s time for war.”
I check the time. “Honestly? Yeah. I’ll give myself until the end of this glass of wine, then I’ll call him. Ask him to pick me up. Talk like adults.”
Like clockwork, my phone buzzes.
Sam
Hey, where you at, baby? I can’t find you.
I left. We need to talk later. I’ll call you when I’m ready.
“Stoic. Controlled. Badass,” Nessa says, reading over my shoulder. “Classic earth sign.”
We’re halfway through a wild tale of Nessa getting headbutted in goat yoga before someone starts banging on the front door.
“Becca, open up! I know you’re in there!”
My stomach drops. “How the hell does he know I’m here? I turned off location sharing.”
Mack checks her phone, grimacing. “Jared must’ve seen something on the Ring cam. I didn’t tell him to keep quiet, my bad.”
I take a long breath in, letting it out slowly. “It’s fine. This was coming.”
“Go out front. Take your time,” Mack says gently.
“And don’t hold back,” Nessa encourages. “If we can hear it from here, you won’t have to repeat a thing.”
I open the door. Sam stands there, jaw tight, eyes stormy.
“What the hell, Becca? One minute we’re at the party having a great time, the next you’re just gone? You didn’t even tell me you’d left?” he sputters.
Seriously? That’s his opening line?
“You’re worried about how it looked to your family? Your business associates? Your favorite girls?” My voice is steady. Cold. “Not what actually happened?”
His expression flickers. He shifts, uneasy. “I’m sorry if you felt like I was ignoring you. You know how these parties go. I didn’t think it’d bother you.”
“That’s what you think this is about?” I step closer. “Try again.”
“Becca, come on …”
“No, Sam. Think. Is there anything you want to tell me?”
A pause. Too long.
“No,” he says.
“Alright then,” I snap. “Let’s check the cabin fund for fun. A random balance check to make sure nothing is amiss.”
His face drains of color. “Becca, I was going to talk to you this weekend—”
“Let me guess, after the check cleared and it was too late to stop it?”
“I just needed more time to—”
“To what? Lie to me? Secretly transfer over more money?”
His mouth opens, then shuts. Finally: “It’s not like that. Holly came to me a few weeks ago. She had this opportunity—”
“Oh, I heard all about it. While you were laughing about what’s hers is mine and how I’d have ‘nowhere to go.’”
His face hardens. “That’s not what I meant—”
“Then tell me what you did mean, Sam. You emptied our savings behind my back. You used money we sacrificed for, bled for, and handed it over for your sister’s dream.”
“She deserves a chance.”
“She deserves a business plan.”
He flinches.
“Oh, she doesn’t have one?” I laugh, bitter. “Just a dream, a cute location, and Mandy. What could go wrong?”
“She’s been through so much, Becca. She needs support,” he insists.
“I need support too,” I whisper. “We had a plan. You told me we were a team.”
“We are!”
“Teams make decisions together.”
“She would’ve missed the lease if I waited. I knew you’d say no.”
“So instead you lied and kept it from me.”
He throws up his hands. “I didn’t lie. I acted. I made a judgment call. And yeah, I thought you’d understand. You send money to your family all the time.”
“That’s not the same, Sam. I use my personal account. Small amounts. And I tell you.”
“She’s my sister.”
“And I’m your wife.”
Silence.
“You’re telling me she matters more than I do?” I ask.
“No! Of course not—”
“Well, you stole my money and gave it to Holly and Mandy. If she’s worth stealing from me, she must matter more.”
"It's not your money!" Sam shouts at me.
"Not anymore it isn't, it's Holly's now," I say, far calmer than I feel.
He’s breathing hard now, running a hand through his hair. “You’re blowing this out of proportion. We can save it back. We’re good at that. And I’ll help her get on her feet, and then—”
“And then what?” My voice drops. “You get to be the hero. The savior. The big brother. While I eat discounted meat and clip coupons and hope you don’t make another decision without me. Anxiously checking our bank account to see when you would take from me again?”
His jaw tightens. “I didn’t steal it from you, it was ours!”
“If you really felt it was mine, why didn’t you ask?”
Silence.
“Let’s not forget what you said to Rick,” I add. “About the business and house being in your name. That I’d be going nowhere.”
“That’s not how I meant it. You know I didn’t.”
“But you said it.”
“Come home,” he pleads. “We can talk through this.”
“I’m not going back to your house.”
“Becca—”
“You took control of the money. But you don’t get to control me.”
I turn on my heel and stalk inside, shutting the door behind me like a punctuation mark.
Inside, the girls scramble to look casual.
“Really?” I deadpan. “You all look like raccoons caught in the trash.”
“Babe, flawless closer.” Nessa grins, still munching on an egg roll.
“Stay here tonight,” Mack says, rubbing my back comfortingly. “Breathe. Rest. The world will look different tomorrow.”
“It already does,” I murmur, then turn to Phoenix. “Can I retain your legal services?”
She gasps. “Becca, are you sure? Before going the divorce route, I think there are other alternatives.”
“I’m not filing. Yet,” I say calmly. “I want a postnuptial agreement. Sam was right about one thing: he has all the power. That changes tomorrow.”