Chapter 2

Before I could process any of it, a black sedan pulled up outside city hall.

The window came down and a carefully maintained face appeared behind it.

It was Richard's mother, Pamela Shaw.

Pamela said, "All done? Get in. We have a table booked for tonight to celebrate."

She smiled at me, that same polite smile I'd seen countless times.

It was polite and distant, the smile a woman gave a guest she never wanted but had to seat anyway.

I didn't move.

Richard opened the car door for me. "Get in."

I climbed in, numb all over.

Pamela glanced at me in the rearview mirror. "Why are you so pale? Nerves?"

I didn't answer.

Richard slid into the passenger seat without turning around. "Nothing. She's worked up about the license."

A couple of blocks later, Pamela spoke again. "Evelyn, Richard told me your first marriage didn't go well."

I clenched my hands tight on my lap.

"A woman who has been married before is always a step down for a man like Richard. Keep that in mind."

"Mom," Richard said.

"I'm only saying what's true." Pamela looked out the window. "Look at the girls at your company. Every one of them single, and you picked a divorcee. Me not objecting is generous enough."

Divorcee.

Secondhand.

I'd heard that word before.

Five years ago, when I signed the divorce papers, Eric Grant's mother said it in front of the whole family. "I told you this girl wasn't good enough. A divorce is a mercy. My son has no shortage of options."

Back then, Monica was sitting on the living room couch, head down, pretending to be embarrassed.

Same old drama.

The exact same scene, only with a different mother playing the part.

Pamela kept talking.

"I'm not making it hard on you. I'm warning you. Marrying into this family means putting up with things. Richard gets around, so don't sit at home suspecting him. Men can't stand that."

She said he got around.

I suddenly felt like she was hinting at something.

I glanced at Richard. He was looking at his phone, and his face gave away nothing.

"Mom, she knows all of this," Richard said.

Pamela said, "Good."

The car stopped in front of a small private restaurant, and Pamela got out first.

I stayed in the back seat, unmoving.

Richard finally turned and looked at me.

"Don't fight my mother. If she finds out you're thinking about a divorce, you won't last a week in this city."

He pushed the door open and walked off.

That left me alone in the car.

The sunlight streamed through the window, but I felt cold to the bone.

*****

In the private room, Pamela ordered a full table of food, and every dish was something Richard liked.

No one bothered to ask what I wanted.

I sat at the corner of the table with my fork resting on my plate and didn't touch a thing.

Pamela poured a cup of coffee and pushed it toward Richard. "Bring the license home tomorrow so I can see it. And the house still needs to be notarized in your name."

Richard said, "Okay."

Pamela asked, "No need to add Evelyn's name, right?"

I looked up at her.

Richard answered for me. "No."

Pamela nodded, satisfied, then looked at me. "Evelyn, don't take it to heart. Richard's assets belong to the Shaw family. A married couple doesn't need to draw lines like that."

Not drawing lines meant I would never see a dollar of it.

Suddenly, I remembered something.

I asked, "Richard, is my salary card still linked to your phone?"

Before the license, he had said it would be easier to manage the money if my bank card was tied to his payment account.

I didn't give it a second thought back then.

Now, the cold went straight up my back.

Richard took a bite and didn't answer.

I called, "Richard."

He said, "Yeah, it's linked."

I said, "Unlink it."

He finally glanced at me and set his fork down.

He said, "Evelyn, you're my wife now.

"I shouldn't have to explain who handles a wife's money."

Pamela cut in. "Exactly. Family money gets used together. You think Richard is going to pocket your paycheck?"

My paycheck.

I had been a project manager at Richard's company for two years, making four thousand dollars a month. It wasn't much, but it covered my life.

And starting today, that four thousand dollars was no longer mine.

I stood up.

I said, "I can't eat. I need some air."

Pamela frowned. "The food just came. What is that supposed to mean?"

"Let her go," Richard said, and kept eating without looking up.

I walked out of the private room and leaned against the hallway wall.

My phone buzzed.

It was a text from the bank.

I opened it, and all the color drained from my face.

My savings account was frozen.

There was no money in my account.

Every dollar had been moved out at 2:14 p.m., less than 30 minutes after we picked up the license.

My hand shook as I stared at my phone.

I turned to look at the private room's door.

Through the glass, Richard was laughing with Pamela, a coffee cup in his hand, perfectly at ease.

Everything was unfolding exactly the way he had planned it.