I had wanted my marriage saved.
But after the hospital, I understood suspicion was over.
This was diagnosis.
And as a nurse, when the diagnosis is severe, you do not collapse.
You collect evidence.
The first person I called was my best friend, Natalie Brooks.
We had met in college.
While I chose nursing, Natalie went into law enforcement and eventually opened her own private investigation firm.
When I showed her bank statements, receipts, screenshots, and the photo I had taken of Vanessa’s medical file, Natalie grew quiet.
Then halfway through the paperwork, her face changed.
“This isn’t only cheating,” she said softly. “This is something worse.”
She was right.
She traced payments from our shared account to an upscale apartment downtown.
Nearly four thousand dollars every month for almost two years.
She found transfers to a private psychiatric clinic called St. Isabel Wellness Center.
Legal consultations.
Emails.
Notes.
And then the discovery that nearly stopped my heart.
Daniel had been researching how to legally declare a spouse mentally incompetent.
“No,” I whispered.
Natalie turned her laptop toward me.
“Yes. And it looks like he planned to do that to you.”