took, emergency savings I had built, help with Ben’s tuition, and a Christmas when I clipped coupons because Daniel told me to economize. Every entry was linked to a piece of our marriage.
He remained on the porch. “How much?”
“Eighteen thousand four hundred twenty.”
“That’s impossible.”
“It isn’t.”
“Not all of that was Rachel.”
“Your attorney will receive the itemization.”
“You went through everything.”
“Yes.”
“That feels invasive.”
I laughed, and he looked hurt.
“I’m glad we’ve reached the part where privacy matters to you.”
He glanced down the
