Chapter 2

Michael Foster and I have been married for two years and three months.

We met at an entrepreneur networking event. He wasn't an entrepreneur. He was the vendor delivering bottled water to the venue.

His box broke while he was carrying it. Bottles rolled everywhere.

All those suits walked around him like he was dirt.

I was the only one who crouched down to help him pick them up.

He told me later that was the moment he knew I was different.

I'd just sold my first software patent and walked away with ten million.

Thirty, unmarried, money in the bank, and pretty much no social life.

Michael was two years older. An honest guy. Didn't talk much. Worked his tail off.

He said his wife had died in a car accident three years earlier. He'd been on his own since.

My mom said honest men were keepers.

He had nothing when we got married. That rundown six hundred and forty-five square foot place was company housing.

I didn't ask for the wedding gifts.

After the wedding, I paid seven million outright for the Riverside Heights penthouse.

Two thousand three hundred and forty six square feet. Four bedrooms, two living rooms. Top floor with a terrace.

Only my name on the deed.

That was my lawyer friend Sophie Lane's idea.

"If there's love, live in it. If there's no love, you haven't lost a thing."

When she said it, I thought she was worrying too much.

Michael knew my name was the only one on the deed. He didn't say a word.

Back then he really didn't seem to care.

Or maybe I just thought he didn't.

Two years of marriage. He made four thousand a month. Put one thousand toward the household. Kept the rest for himself.

I never touched his money.

And he never once asked about mine.

But in the last three months, I noticed something.

I have a supplementary credit card linked to my main account.

That card is in Michael's wallet.

I got it for him so he could pay the utilities and maintenance fees for me.

But in the last three months, six unusual charges showed up on that card.

Twenty thousand each time.

One hundred thousand total.

The payee was a name I didn't recognize.

I didn't make a fuss.

I saved the screenshots in my phone's encrypted folder.

That night, Michael ladled me a bowl of soup.

"Why were you so late today?"

"Working overtime."

"Don't push yourself too hard."

His tone was gentle. His face was full of sincerity.

I drank the soup.

Couldn't taste a thing.