AA Marriage, Secret Family

For five years into our marriage, Kevin and I still kept our finances strictly separate.

We split the mortgage down the middle, meticulously divided utility bills down to the last cent, and even took turns buying condoms.

Our friends used to joke we were more like roommates than a married couple. I always defended him:

"Economic independence keeps our feelings pure."

On New Year's Eve, Kevin's old phone, left at home, suddenly chimed. Curious, I checked it. It was a notification for his company's million-dollar annual bonus.

I was about to call him with the good news when his call came in first:

"Suzanne, the company's performance wasn't great this year, so no annual bonus. Could you cover the utility bills this month?"

A cold dread settled in my chest.

After hanging up, I quickly rushed to the bank to check his transaction history.

In those five years, he had been sporadically transferring a total of a million dollars to my best friend, Vivian.

I opened Vivian's Ins. She had just updated her feed:

The caption read: "My husband's annual bonus just landed! Time to start a growth fund for our baby!"

The comments section was flooded with likes and remarks from our mutual friends.

"Wow! A million-dollar bonus! When did you find such an amazing husband?"

Vivian immediately replied:

"We're just dating for now, not married yet. I won't say yes to his proposal that easily."

"He got promoted to director this year, and the company gave him the top bonus."

I remembered Kevin being promoted to director last month.

The comments were full of envy, with two from our mutual friends tagging me.

"Look at her husband! How much did yours get this year?"

Vivian replied under that comment:

"Suzanne's household has that separate finances thing, they handle their own money, it's different."

Another friend said:

"Suzanne, you're just too independent."

Vivian replied with a laughing emoji:

"That's right, Suzanne likes it that way, she thinks it's fair."

Someone else asked Vivian:

"When's the baby due? So excited!"

Vivian replied uniformly: "Thank you all! Once the baby arrives, I'll definitely treat everyone to dinner!"

My hands trembling, I scrolled through photos of Vivian's ex-boyfriends on Ins.

One back shot bore a striking resemblance to Kevin.

Another photo showed her pregnant belly, and a hand with a scar was visible.

Kevin had a scar in the same spot on his hand; it was from a lab accident during an experiment.

I'd traced that scar countless times; there was no mistaking it.

The caption beneath that photo read:

*The baby's father was overjoyed, holding her close and refusing to let go.*

My phone slipped from my grasp, falling to the floor. The screen showed a photo of the three of us, and for the first time, it felt like a cruel mockery.

Just a month ago, Vivian had told me she was pregnant.

She said the father was her jerk ex-boyfriend,

that they had broken up long ago, and she was planning to be a single mom.

I had even heartbrokenly accompanied her to the hospital for check-ups,

and covered her three thousand dollars in medical bills.

"Suzanne, you're the only one who's ever been so good to me," she had said, her eyes red-rimmed.

Now, I realized those three thousand dollars were probably just a small part of me funding someone else's child.

I turned off my phone and closed my eyes, but countless images flashed before me.

Last year, for Kevin's birthday, I gave him a two-hundred-dollar fountain pen.

He immediately reciprocated with an equally priced scarf.

Vivian, standing nearby, had said enviously, "It's so nice how you two are; you don't even have to worry about the cost when giving gifts."

Now, I guessed she was laughing at my stupidity inside.

The year before, my mother was hospitalized, and we were eighty thousand dollars short for her surgery.

I was strapped for cash and asked Kevin if he could lend it to me. He replied:

"Our principle is strictly separate finances. This will be a loan from me to you, with bank interest rates, to be repaid within three months."

I gritted my teeth and agreed.

In the end, Vivian lent me fifty thousand dollars, interest-free.

I was so grateful, I treated her to three expensive Japanese meals, each costing five hundred dollars per person.

But now, I suspected that fifty thousand was just a fraction of the money Kevin had transferred to her.

I dragged myself home, prepared a lavish dinner, and waited for him to come back so I could confront him.

In our five years of marriage, Kevin and I had always been 'respectful and formal,' a couple admired by outsiders.

I held a sliver of hope, wishing he'd tell me it was a coincidence, hoping he could give me an explanation.

At midnight, Kevin's call came in.

"Suzanne, I have to work overtime tonight. I won't be back for dinner."

In the background, I could faintly hear fireworks exploding.

"It might end late, so I'll just stay at a hotel near the office. I have an early meeting tomorrow."

I gripped my phone, my fingers tightening. "The company is so heartless, making you work overtime on New Year's Eve. Which hotel are you at? Maybe I can bring you some late-night snacks."

Kevin's panic was palpable. "No!"

Realizing he sounded too harsh, his tone instantly softened. "No need, it's too cold out. I couldn't bear to let you go out in the cold."

"Alright then. Don't drink too much."

The moment he hung up, my heart completely froze over.

Outside, scattered fireworks burst, and the elaborate dinner on the table had grown cold.

I scrolled aimlessly through Ins.

Kevin's mother, Martha, had posted a photo: a huge, delicious spread, all my favorite dishes.

The caption read: "Dinner for my daughter-in-law."

Someone commented in the comments section.

My heart warmed. No matter what Kevin was doing, Martha was always on my side.

I remembered when Kevin and I first got married, Martha held my hand, her eyes red, saying:

"Suzanne, Kevin was a sickly child growing up, and I spoiled him, making him stubborn and difficult. If he does anything wrong, you tell me, and I'll scold him."

The next morning, I drove to Kevin's parents' house.

My in-laws lived in an older suburban neighborhood.

Kevin had bought the house two years ago, putting it in his parents' names.

He said it was for his mother's retirement, and I even split half the down payment with him.

Before leaving, I took out my treasured health supplements and bought my father-in-law, David, his favorite whiskey.

For the past five years, my in-laws had treated me better than their own son.

The first New Year after we got married, Martha secretly slipped me an envelope with cash:

"Kevin, that boy, is so hung up on appearances, insisting on splitting everything. Don't mind him. In life, you can't always just talk about fairness."

One time Kevin and I argued, and in a fit of pique, I didn't go to his parents' place for the holidays.

David called, not asking for the reason, just saying: "Suzanne, I sent you some dessert, from that shop you love."

I cried when I received the package that day.

I carried the gifts upstairs, about to knock on the door.

From inside, I heard a familiar voice, "Mom, don't fuss so much. She's not picky."

My hand, holding the gifts, paused.

Didn't he say he was working overtime yesterday?

But I still smiled faintly, a little relieved, thinking, *As long as he's not with Vivian, it's fine.*

Just as I was about to push the door open, the next sentence froze me to the spot.

"These cherries are so sweet," Vivian's voice was cloyingly sweet.

"Eat more if they're sweet. You're pregnant, you need to nourish yourself properly."

Martha's face was full of loving kindness.

I peered through the crack in the door.

Vivian was sprawled on the couch, legs crossed.

Martha sat beside her, gently feeding her cherries with a toothpick.

David was kneeling by the coffee table, tidying up baby clothes scattered everywhere, grinning from ear to ear.

My stomach lurched.

The gifts in my hand clattered to the floor, and everyone in the living room turned at once.

Vivian saw me, immediately stood up, then cried out in pain, clutching her stomach and sitting back down.

Kevin smoothly put down his teacup and went to steady her.

Vivian wrapped her arms around me, feigning intimacy:

"Suzanne, I fell on the way here today. Kevin just happened to be passing by and gave me a ride. Otherwise, I don't know what I would have done."

I pulled away from Vivian, my eyes fixed on Kevin:

"Kevin, weren't you supposed to be working overtime? How did you end up visiting your parents?"

He paused, then looked away. "It was canceled at the last minute."

Martha quickly jumped in to smooth things over: "Yes, Kevin just arrived too. Vivian just had a little fall on the road, and Kevin happened to see her, so he brought her here to rest..."

I looked at Vivian.

She was wearing plush wool slippers, and there wasn't a speck of dust on her legs.

I struggled to control my emotions.

"Mom, Dad, I just remembered I have something else to do, so I'll be leaving now."

No one followed me out. I slid down the wall, tears streaming down my face.

"She's so clueless, she'd never figure out what I've been doing. Her dad might have been impressive back then, but she's completely useless, didn't inherit an ounce of his intelligence."

There was a hint of smugness in Kevin's voice.

I leaned against the cold wall, my heart pounding faster and faster.

"Speaking of which, her dad really was good to you back then," Martha suddenly said.

"If it weren't for her dad, could you have gotten into such a good company? Would you be where you are today?"

Kevin's voice turned sharply cold. "Even without her dad, with my own capabilities, I would have still made a name for myself."

"Because of her dad's connections, people whispered that I was just a kept man, both openly and behind my back."

"Enough," Vivian said softly. "The man's dead, why bring all that up now?"

"Kevin's doing just as well as her dad, if not better. By the way, you mentioned our old family house last time..."

Martha's voice dropped. "I had someone look into it. There are buyers for that area, offering over two million dollars. We need to transfer that money quickly so she can't get a single cent."

"Then transfer it into Vivian's name," Kevin said.

David, after a long silence, murmured, "Suzanne isn't a bad kid, really. It's just... she can't have children."

Martha sighed. "Exactly! Five years of marriage and not a single child. Kevin is our only son, we can't let our family line end with him."

My heart sank to rock bottom. All these years,

I'd undergone countless tests, taken so many medications, yet I couldn't conceive a child.

Martha, always so 'understanding,' used to console me,

"Children are a gift from above, it's all predetermined, just let nature take its course."

Martha patted Vivian's hand.

"You're the one who really came through, getting pregnant with a boy right away. All my life, I've just wanted a grandson."

Kevin said, "Mom, once the baby is born, you can move in with us. The preschool is right across the street, making it easy to care for Vivian and the child."

"What about her?" Martha asked.

Kevin paused. "We'll tell her everything once Vivian's baby is born. Besides, after five years of marriage with no kids, making her leave with nothing wouldn't be unreasonable. And with her personality, so obsessed with appearances, she'd never air our dirty laundry."

"I'm just afraid she'll get desperate and cause a scene," David chimed in.

"If she wants to make a scene, then we'll divorce. I've already transferred all the money anyway," Kevin interrupted him. "All these years of separate finances, she chose it herself, I never forced her. She thinks she's so noble, but she's just a fool."

That night, after returning from Martha's house, I developed a high fever.

In a hazy daze, I drifted into a dream.

My father was still alive, sitting in the wicker chair in our old house, peeling an orange for me.

He said, "Suzanne, the biggest regret of my life is that I taught you too well. So well that you'd rather be wronged than hurt anyone."

I woke to find my pillow soaked.

Outside, the sky hadn't brightened yet. Kevin hadn't returned all night.

I opened my phone. Vivian posted on Ins at three in the morning.

The photo showed two hands clasped together, with the caption: "Thank you for waiting for the sunrise with me."

I turned off my phone, rose, and went to the study.

In our five years of marriage, all of Kevin's personal belongings had stayed here, in this room. I had never looked through them before.

I opened the drawer, and my eyes fell upon a collection of utterly indecent photos.

Vivian, stark naked, straddling Kevin's abs.

Vivian, scantily clad, lounging in our marital bed.

My hands trembled as I took pictures.

At the very bottom of the drawer, I found an old, faded manila envelope. The brown paper was already yellowed.

I opened it. Inside was a traffic accident report.

The date was the day before my father's funeral.

My father's accident happened while I was away on a business trip.

Kevin had told me that my father ran a red light, crashed into a guardrail, and died instantly.

By the time I rushed back, my father had already been buried.

Martha held my hand, weeping as she told me to "restrain my sorrow."

I fainted several times from crying, and Kevin handled all the funeral arrangements.

At the time, I was so grateful for his help. But now, a vague unease settled in my heart.

Scrolling down, under the "At-Fault Party" section of the report, Vivian's name appeared.

Vivian had killed my father!

I continued flipping through. At the very bottom of the envelope was another paper.

It was a Letter of Leniency. Kevin, acting as my father's son-in-law, had signed it on behalf of the at-fault party.

The reason stated: "The party at fault is a young girl with a promising future; it shouldn't be ruined."

I immediately went to the traffic police department.

There was only a young officer at the night shift window. I handed him the photocopy.

"I need to check the original case file for the Evergreen Avenue accident from three years ago."

He glanced at it, frowning. "It's a closed case."

As a family member, I pleaded relentlessly.

From the traffic officer's words, I slowly pieced together the truth of the last five years.

My father wasn't even driving that day. He was crossing the street at a green light when Vivian, drunk driving, hit him and sent him flying seventeen meters.

Not only did Kevin keep it from me, but he personally signed the Letter of Leniency in my name, as my father's child. He forgave my father's killer for me.

While I was mourning over my father's coffin, he was texting Vivian, comforting her, "Don't be afraid."

By the time I received the call and rushed to the hospital, my father had already been cremated. There was no time for an autopsy.

The traffic officer sighed. "The car broke three of his ribs, ruptured his spleen, and caused intracranial bleeding. He was gone before the ambulance even arrived! I can't understand how your family could have signed that Letter of Leniency. It's incredibly unfilial!"

The traffic officer continued to babble, but my heart had already sunk to rock bottom.

I stumbled out of the traffic police department, utterly devastated, and ran straight into Vivian.

She looked at me, her face filled with terror.

"Kevin, I told you she'd definitely find out. Why else would she come to the traffic department?"

Kevin stared at me, his face wary. Now, he wasn't even bothering to pretend.

"Suzanne, you found out?"

I didn't answer, just swept my gaze coldly over both of them.

"Kevin, my dad was so good to you, and you helped his killer..."

"Vivian, I treated you like my best friend. My father even paid for your tuition back then. Is this how you repay me?"

Vivian froze for a moment, then a grin spread across her face.

"Repay? Suzanne, you have no idea how much I hated your holier-than-thou act, always expecting gratitude, always pretending to be so good to me."

"I wanted to destroy everything you had! Let me tell you, Kevin and I have been together since college. All these years, every time I saw you foolishly kept in the dark, I almost burst out laughing!"

I was trembling with rage, raising my hand to slap Vivian.

Before my hand could fall, a sharp pain shot through my abdomen. I was kicked three meters backward.

Kevin protectively pulled Vivian behind him.

"Since you found out, then you might as well not live."

Vivian lunged at me, pushing me into the ocean.

A second before my mouth and nose were submerged by the seawater, I heard Kevin's comforting voice to Vivian:

"Vivian, don't worry. I'll cooperate with the police to make it look like a legitimate death for her."

The next day, Kevin called the police.

He knelt at the entrance of the police station, desperately pleading with the officers:

"Officer, please help me. My wife, Suzanne, went missing yesterday."

"She suffers from severe depression and delusional disorder; her mental state is very unstable. I'm really worried about her, please, help me."

Vivian stood by, live-streaming, her face streaked with tears.

"It's all our fault for not taking better care of her, which is why she left alone. If any kind stranger sees her, please contact us immediately."

The comments section of the live stream was filled with messages of comfort for both of them.

The next second, a police officer appeared, looking at Kevin with a puzzled expression.

"Your wife was giving a statement at the police station yesterday. Didn't she tell you?"