They thought I was the clueless, barren wife. They thought I was just a walking checkbook.
I wiped my face. I checked my reflection in the rearview mirror. My eyes were red, but they were sharp.
“Okay,” I whispered to the empty car. “You want to play a game? Let’s play.”
Before we continue with how I turned their world upside down, I want to say thank you for listening. If you are watching from New York or Texas or anywhere in between, let me know in the comments. I read every single one. Now, let me tell you about the ghosts that haunted me on that drive home.
I didn’t start the engine immediately. I couldn’t. My body was still trembling, a physical rejection of the trauma I had just absorbed. I leaned my head back against the headrest and closed my eyes. And instantly, the memories came flooding back, not as warm nostalgia but as sharp, jagged shards of glass.
I thought about the day I met Richard. It was seven years ago. He was charming, handsome in a rugged way, but he was broken—literally and financially. He had just declared bankruptcy after a failed tech startup. I was the one who paid off his credit card debt so he could qualify for a car loan. I was the one who introduced him to my father, Arthur, a man who built his empire on steel and logistics.
My father had been skeptical.
“He has shifting eyes, Laura,” Dad had warned. “He looks at your purse, not your face.”
But I was thirty-five then, hearing the ticking of my biological clock like a time bomb. I wanted love. I wanted a family. So I defended Richard. I told my parents he had vision. I paid for our wedding. I bought the house we lived in. I put him on the deed because I wanted us to be equals.
Equals.
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