I went to my son’s apartment with a duplicate key, convinced I was going to catch my daughter-in-law with another man. “Today this lie ends,” I thought before opening the bedroom door. But the woman inside wasn’t her: beside a bottle of champagne, I found my own husband after 32 years of marriage… and what I heard next was even worse.

I frowned.

Walter owned a small accounting and investment consultancy.

He had run it for twenty-two years.

Nothing glamorous.

Corporate tax planning.

Property investment.

Retirement accounts.

At least, that was what I thought.

“What about the company?”

He looked at me.

“I made some bad investments.”

My stomach tightened.

“How bad?”

He rubbed his face.

“Very.”

I stared.

“What does this have to do with Samuel?”

Silence.

Then.

“I used his information.”

My heartbeat changed.

“What information?”

“His name.”

“What?”

“His credit.”

I stared.

The room tilted.

“Explain.”

Walter’s voice dropped.

“I opened a company under his name.”

I could barely breathe.

“You did what?”

“It was temporary.”

I laughed bitterly.

“Of course.”

“Everything terrible is temporary until someone discovers it.”

Walter stood again.

“I was going to fix it.”

“Fix what?”

He looked at the bedroom door.

Then back at me.

“A bridge loan.”

“How much?”

“Margaret.”

“How much?”

“One hundred and forty thousand.”

My mouth went dry.

“In Samuel’s name?”

“Partly.”

“What does partly mean?”