I stood in the kitchen for a few minutes, listening to the quiet hum of the refrigerator.

My heart was beating faster now, but my mind was clear.

I needed to start gathering my own records.

I walked up the stairs to our bedroom.

The room was immaculate, decorated in neutral tones of gray and cream.

I went to the closet and pulled down my small, lockable leather briefcase where I kept my personal documents.

I took it to the small desk in the corner of the bedroom.

Inside were my old tax returns, the deed to the gallery, and the statements from our joint savings accounts.

I opened my laptop and logged into our shared banking portal.

I wanted to download the last five years of bank statements before Ethan decided to change the passwords.

The interface loaded slowly.

I clicked on the primary joint account, the one we used for household expenses and mortgages.

I began downloading the PDF files, saving them to an encrypted folder on my desktop.

Then I clicked on our joint investment portfolio.

As I scrolled through the transaction history, something caught my eye.