Chapter 2

I got home at four in the afternoon.

The apartment was eight hundred square feet, two bedrooms. The university had assigned it to Derek when he made associate professor a faculty housing benefit.

Only his name was on the title. At the time, he'd said it was simpler that way.

The living room shelves were packed with his academic books. My things were crammed into a small corner of the bedroom.

In fifteen years, I'd moved nine times. Always renting. Every move, I owned a little less.

He used to say: “once things settle down, we'll buy a real place and put both our names on it.”

Things had settled down, all right. He'd settled into being Professor Collins. And I'd settled into being "the housekeeper."

I went to the bedroom and pulled an old suitcase out from under the bed.

It was full of notebooks.

Kraftpaper covers, eleven of them in total.

From 2008, when he first started college, all the way to now.

I opened the first one.

“September 3, 2008. Transferred $6,800 for tuition. $1,000 for living expenses. Kept $300 for myself.”

“October 12, 2008. Transferred $800. He said he needed reference books.”

“November 7, 2008. Transferred $1,200. He said his advisor was organizing a group dinner and everyone needed to chip in.”

Every transfer was followed by a note of my income that month.

I closed the last notebook and picked up my phone.

I opened my banking app and pulled up the full transfer history. I searched: “Derek Collins.”

A long list filled the screen.

I screenshotted everything. Fortyseven pages.

Then I opened my laptop and went to the university website.

I enrolled in the community college.

It was affiliated with Derek's university the same campus, a different program.

Tuition: eight thousand dollars a year.

“System notification: Please report for your placement exam next Monday.”

I closed the browser and opened a new Word document.

Title: “The Cost of Building a Professor: A Financial Analysis”

I picked up the first notebook and started typing.

“Chapter One: Direct Financial Support Itemized Record.”

The sound of the keyboard filled the quiet apartment, steady and even.

At nine that night, Derek came home.

He looked tense when he walked in. When he saw me sitting at the computer, he frowned.

"What are you doing?"

"Organizing some files."

He walked up behind me and glanced at the screen.

I'd already switched to a browser tab a recipe site.

"Sarah." His voice softened. "About what happened today we need to talk. Sienna is just a student. Her father is on the board of trustees. I have to manage that relationship. Earlier, we were literally just going over her paper"

"I know," I said. I saved the Word document and password protected it.

"That's your reaction?" His voice sharpened. "I just explained everything. What more do you want?"

He paused, then: "Sarah, you need to understand I'm in a very visible position right now. A lot of people are watching me. I can't afford any complications. I need you not to make things difficult."

I stood up and turned to face him.

"Derek. For your tenure review does your spouse need to sign anything? Provide any kind of documentation?"

He blinked. "What?"

"The review process. Do they need my signature, or any supporting documents from me?"

"No." His tone shifted, a little uneasy. "Why are you asking that?"

"Just curious." I headed toward the kitchen. "Did you eat?"

"Already ate." He hesitated. "Sarah. The review next month is critical. During this period try not to come by the university to find me, okay? The other faculty wives are always comparing notes on everything."

"Understood." I cut him off.

He exhaled, visibly relieved. His voice warmed up.

"Once I get the promotion, the pay bump will be significant. I'll take you shopping get you some nice things. You deserve to treat yourself a little."

"Sure. That sounds good," I said.

He went into his study. I could hear him on the phone, voice low, with a laugh in it.

“"It's fine. Handled it. Yeah, she doesn't know anything..."“

I washed my hands and sat back down at the computer.

The document was already at ten thousand words.

I created a new folder and named it “Evidence.”

I moved in the bank statement screenshots. I photographed the notebooks, page by page, making sure every entry was legible.

I added the recording from today.

Then I opened my photo gallery.

I scrolled back to last week the day I'd gone to campus to drop off a flash drive he'd left at home and pulled up the photos I'd taken from the hallway.

In the photos, Derek and Sienna were walking side by side. Sienna's hand was looped casually through his arm.

Timestamp: October 18, 2023.

I dragged the photos into the folder.