He Made Me Split Bills, So I Married His Boss

Synopsis

The morning after our wedding, Michael Grant set his tablet down on the breakfast bar in front of me. "Rachel, from now on, we're splitting all household expenses." "Groceries, utilities, the mortgage, anything we use together, we split right down the middle. I've set up a spreadsheet. You can transfer me your half every month." He slid the tablet toward me. Rows and columns filled the screen, laid out with the precision of an accountant's ledger. The electricity bill. The water bill. The streaming subscriptions. A pizza we'd ordered two nights ago. A bottle of laundry detergent. Every single charge was listed, labeled, and divided neatly into two columns. At the bottom, a number sat highlighted in yellow: $2,914.12. It was my share. "We're three days into the month," I said, my eyes still fixed on that figure. "And the mortgage... didn't your parents cover the down payment? My family paid for the renovation and bought us the car." Michael's expression cooled. "The down payment came from my parents' savings. The renovation and the car were your family's choice. I never asked for either of those things. "But the mortgage is a debt we carry together now. It's only fair we share it. And as for it being the third of the month—" He paused. His gaze drifted over my silk robe, lingering a second too long. "That robe. You wore it at the reception yesterday, didn't you? "I noticed the tag. It is 400 dollars. And those little bottles on the bathroom shelf. What are those, serums? That's got to be 1,000 dollars right there. "Those are personal purchases, of course. But since you're here using the hot water and the electricity, your share of the utilities applies." I opened my mouth to answer, but my throat locked tight. Not a sound came out. Only yesterday, I'd been wearing this same robe, the one he now priced out loud like an auditor, lying beside him in a bed scattered with rose petals, the candles still flickering on the dresser. He'd whispered, "Rachel, I'm going to take care of you for the rest of my life." Now, less than twenty-four hours later, the candle wax hadn't even dried, the roses were still fragrant on the nightstand, and he was pushing a bill across the counter like I was his new tenant.