My Husband Vanished Right After My Bonus Chapter 2

I didn't sleep.

Sarah stayed with me all night. She helped me document everything that was missing, confirming the final tally.

$20,000 in cash and bonds. My mother’s bracelet, which had been appraised at over $6,000. And about $3,000 in cash I kept in a drawer. Nearly $30,000 in total.

“That bastard,” Sarah seethed, grinding her teeth.

I sat on the sofa, scrolling through Ryan’s Instagram feed from the last two years.

It was a highlight reel of our perfect marriage.

A picture of a steak dinner: Best meal ever, cooked by my amazing wife!

A smiling selfie of us: Happy four-year anniversary to the love of my life. Forever and always.

A candid shot of me working on my laptop: My wife works so hard. Can’t wait to spoil her with her bonus!

The pictures featured me, our home, the watch I bought him for his birthday, the $800 down jacket I’d splurged on for him.

The comments were a chorus of admiration.

“Ryan, you’re one lucky guy!”

“Anna is the definition of a perfect wife!”

“Couple goals right here!”

Looking at it now made me want to vomit.

Sarah leaned over my shoulder. “He’s a hell of an actor,” she said with a sneer.

I kept scrolling down, then stopped abruptly.

A post from three months ago. The caption read: Company retreat. The views are incredible.

The photo was of him in the mountains, the location vague. But I recognized the blue button-down shirt I’d bought him last year.

I zoomed in on the picture, my eyes scanning every detail.

And there, in the bottom corner, was a hand. A woman’s hand, with perfectly manicured red nails, holding out a drink to him.

I hadn’t noticed it at the time.

Now, I knew. That hand had to belong to Zoe.

“Do you know this Zoe Reed?” Sarah asked.

“Never met her.” I shook my head, my mind racing.

Ryan didn't have a real job. He always told me he was an "independent investor," but he never seemed to make any actual money. He’d contribute a few hundred dollars to our joint account each month, claiming it was his "income." The rest of our lifestyle was funded entirely by me.

So how did he meet this Zoe?

He never let me touch his phone, but I knew his passcode—our wedding anniversary.

He hadn't changed it. He probably thought I’d never bother to check.

I opened his texts and started scrolling back, all the way to the beginning of his conversation with Zoe.

The first message was from eight months ago.

“Hey, Ryan. It’s Zoe. Mark from the club gave me your number, said you could help me with some investments.”

Investments? Ryan, giving financial advice?

I kept reading, and with every message, the sick feeling in my stomach grew stronger.

Two months later, the tone of their chats shifted.

“Ry, I miss you so much.”

“I know, baby. Just wait till I get through this.”

“Is your wife good to you?”

“She’s fine. Just too busy with work all the time. Doesn’t really have time for me.”

“Poor you. I’ll take care of you from now on.”

By the time I reached that message, my hands were shaking.

Beside me, Sarah’s face had gone pale with rage. “Those two absolute pieces of trash!”

I ignored her, my eyes glued to the screen as I scrolled further.

A month ago, the conversation turned to money.

“Zoe, how are the preparations going over there?”

“Apartment is all set. Rent is cheap in Miami, only $2,000 a month for a year.”

“Perfect. Once I get things sorted on my end, we can finally be together.”

“What about her money?”

“It’s coming. Her bonus lands at the end of the month. I’ll think of a way to get it from her then.”

“You’re amazing, Ry.”

“After five years, I know exactly how she thinks. All I have to do is ask, and she’ll give it to me.”

I stared at those last few lines for a long, long time.

Five years.

From the very beginning, I was nothing more than his personal ATM.

Suddenly, Sarah jabbed a finger at the screen. “Look at this one!”

I followed her finger to a message from yesterday.

“Babe, did the bonus hit your account yet?” That was the text he’d sent to me.

Immediately after, he’d sent one to Zoe.

“Should be any time now. Once it lands, I’ll tell her about the investment.”

“What if she says no?”

“No way. I’ve been playing this part for five years. What’s she going to do?”

“But what if she gets suspicious?”

“Her? She’s a fool. She believes anything I tell her.”

A fool.

He called me a fool.

A strange, sharp laugh escaped my lips.

Sarah jumped. “Anna? Don’t scare me. What are you laughing at?”

I closed the phone and stood up. “I’m laughing at myself.”

“What?”

“Ryan was right.” I walked to the window and watched the sky slowly lighten from charcoal gray to a bruised purple.

“I was a fool.”

“But not anymore.”