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At eight months pregnant, I discovered my husband had completely drained my $48,000 emergency pregnancy fund. I checked his phone’s GPS and found out he was in Hawaii, chilling on a beach resort with his female co-workers. I booked a flight, flew straight there, and confronted him in front of them all. He just smirked, sipping a cocktail and saying: “A man has physiological needs; a pregnant wife at home is completely helpless to stop me.” He returned home days later sunburnt and laughing, but the locks were changed, and signed divorce papers were taped to the door of a house that now legally belonged to a complete stranger.

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so he couldn’t see the boxes Nina had already begun to pack in the background.

He was sitting in a cabana, a garland of flowers around his neck. “What did you do to the cards, Claire? I just tried to book a private catamaran and the transaction was declined.”

“I protected our future, Daniel,” I said, mimicking his own words back to him. “High yield, continue reading …

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