4 tesoros inesperados para el multimillonario

“Move already!” I muttered under my breath, frustration bubbling over as I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel, staring at the taillights of the car in front of me.

The traffic hadn’t moved in what felt like an eternity.

I leaned forward, peering through the windshield as if somehow that would make the line budge. Nothing. Finally, I slammed my hand on the horn, earning a scornful look from the driver to my right.

I was hopelessly impatient, though I didn’t like to admit it. I couldn’t say this was atypical behavior for me, but I had a good reason.

Today was my marriage anniversary.

Marcus and I had been married for two years, and seventy percent of the time, he was the perfect husband.

He knew all the most romantic restaurants in town, still surprised me with flowers, and when he asked about my day, he actually listened to my answers and asked appropriate follow-up questions.

But thirty percent of the time, he was so stubborn, I could scream.

Lately, there had been a few hiccups in our marriage, but I planned to smooth things out starting tonight.

I had taken note of the numerous hints he’d thrown my way over the past few weeks about getting a grand gift for him.

I’d been indecisive about what to get but finally settled on a Cartier watch. “Santos de Cartier,” the saleslady had said proudly before reeling off its qualities, which I forgot as soon as they left her mouth.

The only thing that mattered was that it looked elegant and was quite expensive, so I hoped he’d be happy with his gift.

I hoped to score well this year because you could never tell with him. His tastes changed all the time. For one, he had never worn the silk tie I got him the previous year.

I was still learning about Marcus. All my friends had scolded me for marrying him too quickly, my parents included. We met in a coffee shop one day—I tripped and spilled my drink right next to his table, and he insisted on buying me a new one.

It was one of those love-at-first-sight deals. When I saw him, I fell hard for his blond hair streaked with even blonder strands. His blue eyes were the color of the sky on a clear day and rimmed with pale lashes.

Three months later, when I stood at the altar, looking at a banner that read “Marcus & Anna,” I couldn’t quite believe it myself as I was giddy with joy.

A clichéd honeymoon in Paris had deepened our love even further.

I sighed as I thought of all those dreamy moments. Too bad they seemed so far away, and I was now stuck in traffic.

The worst part was that it was snowing. It had started a few hours ago, just when I’d left work. At first, they were cute little white flakes that evaporated on contact with the ground.

Over the last hour, the flakes had quadrupled in size. They weren’t cute anymore. And now that I had turned off the highway, the more deserted, narrow road leading to my house was slick with snow. And it wasn’t like I was in a truck; I was in a BMW, which meant I had to be extra careful since we had only just gotten it recently.

As I impatiently tapped my fingers on the wheel, my phone buzzed. I glanced down to see an email notification. I normally wouldn’t check it, but I figured it could be from work.

As it turned out, it was from my bank. As I read the first line, the heading threw me off guard, and my heart skipped a beat.

As if on cue, the BMW skidded on a patch of slushy ice because my fingers were bloodless on the steering wheel. I righted the vehicle, but my heart was pounding, and I pulled over to the side of the road.

“Notice of Default and Intent to Foreclose” was written boldly at the beginning of the email.

My head was reeling in confusion as I was genuinely shocked. I had been faithful with the payment of the mortgage monthly ever since the initial down payment.

It told on my account as a sizeable part of my income went into the house payment. Infact I was the only one paying all of it since I was making much more than Marcus.

On his suggestion, I had given him the rein to handle my finances and bills since I was always busy with work so he had access to my bank accounts. I had only recently logged into this mail account which was why I was only now getting it.

My eyes quickly scanned through the content till it settled on the last ominous paragraph.

Failure to Cure:

If the total amount due is not paid by October 15, 2024, the foreclosure process will continue, and your property may be sold at a public auction. You may lose ownership of your home, and legal action may be taken against you to recover any outstanding debt. If you do not take action, the foreclosure sale is scheduled as follows:

Foreclosure Sale Date: November 1, 2024

Time: 11:00 AM…

My thoughts trailed away as I closed the mail and scrolled down to check the other mails.

My eyes widened as I saw more mails of payment defaults. We had indeed been missing out on the payments for quite some time now.

Thousands of dollars overdue. My chest tightened as I realized the implications. Not just the house. Everything we had worked for was on the line.

With shaky hands, I quickly dialed Marcus’s number but it went straight to voicemail.

“Marcus, there's an issue with the mortgage I don't understand. Call me when you get this,” I muttered, dropping a message for him.

I slammed my phone down, my heart racing as I pulled back onto the road. The snow was coming down heavier now, swirling in a blinding dance, but I couldn’t focus on the weather. I needed answers.

When I finally pulled into our driveway, I spotted Marcus’s car parked haphazardly near the entrance. The sight sent a wave of relief through me. He was home. But as I stepped out of the BMW, the chill in the air felt more like a warning than a backdrop to my anniversary.

I rushed inside, shaking off the snowflakes clinging to my coat. “Marcus!” I called out, but my voice echoed back at me, swallowed by the silence of the house.

I spotted him in the living room, staring out the window, his posture tense. “Hey,” I said, my stomach twisting with dread. “We need to talk.”

He turned to me, a strange mix of surprise and apprehension on his face. The warm glow of the living room lights did little to melt the icy knot in my chest. “Babe, what’s wrong?”

“It's about the mortgage payments,” I started, my voice faltering as I took a step closer. “I got an email from the bank. We’re in default, Marcus. How could this happen?”

The room felt heavy, and for a moment, he just stood there, eyes wide but vacant. Then, I caught it—a flicker of guilt in his eyes. It was there and gone before I could process it that I thought it was all in my head.

“I have been using the money to settle some things,” Marcus said, straightening his posture as he stared coldly at me.