I reviewed old emails.
I looked through documents in our home office.
And slowly, a picture began to form.
Money had been moving through accounts connected to a company Mark had never mentioned to me.
The company was connected to one of the subcontractors involved in the Riverside project.
I didn’t understand everything.
But I understood enough.
Someone had been hiding something.
And my husband’s name was appearing far too often.
I confronted him one night.
“Mark, what’s Riverside Holdings?”
He looked at me for half a second too long.
Then laughed.
“Where did you hear that?”
“I saw the name.”
“Where?”
“Does it matter?”
He stared at me.
“Linda, this is exactly why you shouldn’t worry about things you don’t understand.”
The way he said it hurt more than the words.
I wasn’t stupid.
I wasn’t incapable.
I simply hadn’t spent my life inside corporate offices.
“I asked you a question.”
“And I answered it.”
“No, you didn’t.”
He walked away.
That night, I realized something about my marriage.
I had spent years believing Mark respected me.
Maybe he had simply become accustomed to me not asking questions.
The next few weeks were tense.
He became more secretive.
He changed passwords.
