Chapter 1 · The Wife He Thought Was Poor

Chapter 1

David Lane made $25,000 a month. I made $10,000. He proposed we split everything 50-50 from now on, separate accounts, separate expenses. I thought about it and agreed.

The next morning, a courier delivered a property deed to our door. The 1,720 sqft apartment overlooking the river was registered to one name only: mine.

At six o'clock sharp, I came home from work. David was standing in the entryway, the deed crumpled in his hand. His knuckles were white, and a vein at his temple twitched twice.

I set my bag down and looked at him. "Separate finances. That was your idea. So when were you planning to settle up the three years of rent you've been living here for free?"

*****

David had brought up the separate-accounts plan on Friday night, over dinner.

I had made four dishes and a soup, including the honey-glazed pork ribs he liked. He picked up a rib with his fork but didn't bring it to his mouth. He rested it on the edge of his bowl and looked up at me.

"Emily, there's something I want to talk to you about," he said.

"Sure, go ahead," I replied.

"I think we should start splitting our expenses from now on," he said. "Separate accounts. Everything down the middle."

My spoon paused mid-air.

"Mortgage, building fees, utilities, groceries, all of it split in half. Whatever either of us spends on ourselves, we cover ourselves," he added.

His tone was level as he tapped his fork against the rim of his plate. "I make $25,000 a month. You make $10,000. I never made an issue of you spending my money before, but it isn't fair if it goes on like this forever."

The words sat there between us. I stared at the sheen of oil on the pork ribs and felt perfectly calm.

"Have you been under a lot of pressure lately?" I asked.

"It isn't about pressure." He set down his fork and leaned back in his chair. "Sophia said..."

He froze, cutting himself off halfway through the sentence.

Sophia Wells was the new hire in David's department.

I had met her once, by accident at a shopping mall. She had been hanging on David's arm, and when she saw me, her eyes traveled from my head to my feet before settling on the canvas tote bag in my hand.

I understood that look perfectly. It told me she thought he could have done better.

"What did Sophia say?" I took a sip of my soup.

"Nothing." He changed the subject. "So are you in or not?"

I looked at him. David was good-looking, I had to admit, six feet tall with even features.

Three years ago, when he was still pulling in $7,000 a month, I had married him, and he had wept with gratitude and sworn he would spend the rest of his life being good to me.

Three years later, his salary had jumped from $7,000 to $25,000, and his head had swelled along with it.

"Fine." I gave him a small smile. "Let's split."

A flicker of satisfaction crossed his eyes before he tucked it away. He nodded with feigned indifference. "We'll start next month, then," he said.

"No need." I set down my bowl and dabbed at the corner of my mouth with a napkin. "We can start tonight."

He blinked, clearly not expecting me to agree so readily.

"So, for tonight's dinner, the ribs were $25, vegetables were $5." I counted on my fingers. "Your half comes to $15. Venmo me."

David's face went stiff for two full seconds. Then he pulled out his phone and sent the money. I watched the notification come through and slipped my phone into my pocket.

I didn't bother with the dishes after dinner. I went straight to the bedroom, while he sat in the living room for a long time.

Leaning against the headboard, I sent my father a message. [Dad, have the lawyer send that property certificate over to the house tomorrow.]

He replied instantly. [About time you let him see it.]

I switched off the phone and closed my eyes.

David had no idea what he had just agreed to. He had spent three years assuming the apartment, the car, every single thing in this house was half his, and he had never once asked whose name was on the paperwork.

*****

Saturday morning, I went out and bought myself a coffee.

When I came back, David was standing beside the shoe cabinet with a brown paper envelope in his hand. It had come by overnight courier, and he had already opened it.

Chapter 1

David Lane made $25,000 a month. I made $10,000. He proposed we split everything 50-50 from now on, separate accounts, separate expenses. I thought about it and agreed.

The next morning, a courier delivered a property deed to our door. The 1,720 sqft apartment overlooking the river was registered to one name only: mine.

At six o'clock sharp, I came home from work. David was standing in the entryway, the deed crumpled in his hand. His knuckles were white, and a vein at his temple twitched twice.

I set my bag down and looked at him. "Separate finances. That was your idea. So when were you planning to settle up the three years of rent you've been living here for free?"

*****

David had brought up the separate-accounts plan on Friday night, over dinner.

"Emily, there's something I want to talk to you about," he said.

"Sure, go ahead," I replied.

"I think we should start splitting our expenses from now on," he said. "Separate accounts. Everything down the middle."

My spoon paused mid-air.

"Mortgage, building fees, utilities, groceries, all of it split in half. Whatever either of us spends on ourselves, we cover ourselves," he added.

The words sat there between us. I stared at the sheen of oil on the pork ribs and felt perfectly calm.

"Have you been under a lot of pressure lately?" I asked.

"It isn't about pressure." He set down his fork and leaned back in his chair. "Sophia said..."

He froze, cutting himself off halfway through the sentence.

Sophia Wells was the new hire in David's department.

I understood that look perfectly. It told me she thought he could have done better.

"What did Sophia say?" I took a sip of my soup.

"Nothing." He changed the subject. "So are you in or not?"

I looked at him. David was good-looking, I had to admit, six feet tall with even features.

Three years ago, when he was still pulling in $7,000 a month, I had married him, and he had wept with gratitude and sworn he would spend the rest of his life being good to me.

Three years later, his salary had jumped from $7,000 to $25,000, and his head had swelled along with it.

"Fine." I gave him a small smile. "Let's split."

A flicker of satisfaction crossed his eyes before he tucked it away. He nodded with feigned indifference. "We'll start next month, then," he said.

"No need." I set down my bowl and dabbed at the corner of my mouth with a napkin. "We can start tonight."

He blinked, clearly not expecting me to agree so readily.

"So, for tonight's dinner, the ribs were $25, vegetables were $5." I counted on my fingers. "Your half comes to $15. Venmo me."

David's face went stiff for two full seconds. Then he pulled out his phone and sent the money. I watched the notification come through and slipped my phone into my pocket.

I didn't bother with the dishes after dinner. I went straight to the bedroom, while he sat in the living room for a long time.

Leaning against the headboard, I sent my father a message. [Dad, have the lawyer send that property certificate over to the house tomorrow.]

He replied instantly. [About time you let him see it.]

I switched off the phone and closed my eyes.

*****

Saturday morning, I went out and bought myself a coffee.

When I came back, David was standing beside the shoe cabinet with a brown paper envelope in his hand. It had come by overnight courier, and he had already opened it.