Chapter 1

On our wedding anniversary, my husband handed me a bankruptcy declaration and a divorce agreement. In a heavy voice, he said, "I'm broke. I don't want to drag you down, so let's get divorced."

Before we got married, I had already come clean with him. "I grew up terrified of being poor. The only things that make me feel safe are money in the bank and a roof over my head." Back then, he pulled me into his arms and swore I'd never suffer again for the rest of my life.

After we got married, he handed over his pay card and indulged me in everything. I truly thought I'd finally found someone I could rely on. But when I came home early from a business trip, I overheard him on the phone with his childhood sweetheart in our bedroom:

"You sent her the bankruptcy notice, right? A gold digger like her will panic and agree to the divorce. Our tickets to the Azure Isles for tomorrow are already booked."

"Once we get back from vacation, I'll buy her a bag and smooth things over. I'll just say the guys talked me into some stupid loyalty test. How could I miss your thirtieth birthday party on the island? Of course I have to show up single and spend it with you."

I looked at the multi-million-dollar stock-option contract I had just signed, then quietly walked back out the door. So when James Landon came to me later with the divorce agreement, I simply took the pen and signed.

When he came back from the island, I was already holding my new boyfriend's hand. "Your buddies were right. I really am practical, so I took your little joke seriously."

"Claire, I'm broke. My cash flow is shot, and I'm nearly twenty-seven million dollars in debt. I can't drag you down with me. Let's get divorced. If you walk away with nothing, the creditors won't be able to come after you."

He really sold it—his voice catching, tears falling on cue, the picture of a perfect husband sacrificing himself for his wife. If I hadn't overheard that phone call earlier, I might actually have wept and handed over every cent I'd saved.

I said nothing and opened the agreement. The property clause stated in black and white that I would leave with nothing while he assumed every debt. Even the debt-free home I'd bought before marriage had somehow been listed under his name as "collateral for repayment," and it made me sick.

Just two hours earlier, my trip had ended ahead of schedule. The moment I reached the bedroom door, I heard voices over speakerphone, and Alex Shaw asked, "Jim, you're really going to scare Claire with fake bankruptcy? Can a money-obsessed woman like her even handle that?"

James laughed, smug as hell. "She grew up scared of being poor. Money is her whole sense of security. The second I pretend to go broke, she'll cry her eyes out and hand over all her savings for me to use."

Then a sweet, sugary female voice cut in. It was Sophie Newman, his childhood sweetheart. "James, you sent her the bankruptcy notice, right? A gold digger like her will panic and agree to the divorce. Our tickets to the Azure Isles for tomorrow are already booked."

"How could I miss your thirtieth birthday party on the island? Of course I have to show up single and spend it with you." James's voice was so doting it made my skin crawl. "Once we get back, I'll buy her a bag. She loves me too much to really go through with the divorce."

That whole conversation was now saved on my phone. In my bag sat a freshly stamped stock-option contract worth several million, the reward I'd earned after three months of sleepless nights fighting for the group's core project.

Originally, I'd planned to surprise him tonight. Turns out, his surprise was bigger. I didn't even want to waste breath questioning trash like him, so I pulled a pen from my bag and signed "Claire Linwood" across the last page in one clean stroke.

The scratch of pen on paper sounded especially sharp in the quiet dining room. James froze, real shock flashing across his face. He had expected tears and pleas for solidarity, but I didn't hesitate for even a second.

He lowered his head to hide the smug curve at his mouth and let out a fake sigh. "Claire, I know I've put you through a lot. Once I'm back on my feet, I'll marry you all over again and do it right. I'll stay at a budget hotel tonight so I don't disturb your rest."

He got to his feet, went into the bedroom, and dragged out a suitcase that had obviously been packed in advance. The second the front door shut behind him, I dumped the candlelit dinner—plates, steak, all of it—into the trash.

Then I went into the bedroom and cleared out everything that belonged to him—his clothes, shoes, ties, cups, towels, and toothbrush. Not a single thing stayed behind.

The moment I finished, I called a cleaning company and told them to come that night with their strongest disinfectant for a deep clean. After that, I rang a real estate agent. "List the house under my name right now. Cash buyers first."