Chapter 3

I sold my wedding ring.

The buyback price came to 8,400 dollars, enough to cover the deposit for my mother's surgery.

As the clerk sealed the ring in a plastic bag, she asked, "Are you sure you don't want to think it over? There's still a name engraved inside the band."

I shook my head. "No need."

The ring had originally cost 56,000 dollars. Lynette had slipped it onto my finger with her own hands, promising that I would never have to worry about money again. Now it was worth exactly one surgery.

…

When I returned from the hospital, Lynette was sitting in the living room. The receipt from the buyback shop lay on the coffee table.

"Where's the ring?" she asked.

"I sold it."

"Why didn't you wait for my approval?" she demanded.

"My mother couldn't wait."

Her brow creased slightly. "I already talked to the doctor. The surgery can be pushed back a week."

"The bed goes to someone else today," I said.

"If it does, we'll switch hospitals," she countered.

"The lead surgeon only has time this week." I bent down to change my shoes and kept my voice quiet. "The money came from my own ring. You don't need to worry about it."

Lynette stood and caught my wrist. Her grip was not hard, but she refused to let me go. "Harold, do you have to push me like this?"

"Push you into what?"

"Into admitting I don't care about your mother. Into bowing to you over 6,000 dollars."

I looked at her and suddenly found myself speechless. So in her eyes, my mother's surgery was not a matter of life and death. It was leverage I was using to win an argument.

Lynette released my wrist and pulled a card from her wallet. "There's 10,000 dollars on this. The PIN is your birthday. Buy the ring back. Don't make me a laughingstock in front of everyone."

My body moved before my judgment could catch up.

I reached for the card.

But just then, her phone lit up.

Jayden had sent her a photo of himself wearing my jade pendant and a 17,400-dollar watch.

His message read: [Ms. Kensington, come with me to meet the investors tonight. I can't handle them alone.]

Lynette pulled the card back. "Go to the hospital first. I have an obligation tonight."

"My mother's surgery is tomorrow morning. A family member needs to sign the consent form," I said.

"Your signature is enough."

"She's been wanting to see you," I added.

"After the launch." She picked up her coat and walked to the door, then stopped. "Come tomorrow night too. Jay says having the family there makes for a better story. Don't dress too plainly. I'll have my assistant send some clothes over for you."

…

The night before my mother's surgery, Denise Crawford came to the hospital. She had been my father's lawyer while he was alive and had also been my friend since childhood.

She handed me a document folder. "The power of attorney your father left you for his shares expires next month. You never got back to me, so I had to come in person."

I froze. "What shares?"

"32% of the Kensington Group." Denise looked at me. "When the Kensington Group was first founded, your father provided the initial investment under your name. After you got married, you signed a proxy agreement that transferred the voting rights to Lynette for three years."

I remembered the stack of documents Lynette had brought me before the wedding. She had told me they were for our joint account and to change the insurance beneficiary after we married.

I had signed them all without reading them closely.

"And after it expires?" I asked.

"You can renew the agreement, or you can take back the voting rights," Denise answered.

The hospital room door swung open.

Lynette stood in the doorway, her gaze fixed on the document folder in Denise's hand. "What are you doing here?"

Denise stood. "I came to sit with Harry while he signs the surgical consent form."

"He has a wife. He doesn't need you here for that." Lynette walked over and placed another document in front of me. "The brand launch requires a supplementary signature for the design authorization. Sign it, and I'll have Finance cover the full cost of your mother's treatment."

I turned to the last page.

The authorization covered every design I had ever created, both before and after our marriage, with no time limit.

"And if I don't sign?"

Lynette's expression remained unchanged. "Then it goes through the normal family approval process, and there's no guarantee all of your mother's future medication will be covered."

From behind the curtain, my mother asked, "Is Lyn here?"

I heard wheels rolling down the hallway and picked up the pen.

Lynette pressed a finger against the corner of the document. "Sign your full name. Don't get it wrong."

I wrote my name, Harold Weston, one letter at a time.

The instant my pen left the page, my mother let out a soft sigh from behind the curtain. "Harry, the reason I agreed to let you marry her back then was because she told me she'd never let you suffer."

Lynette's fingers stiffened for a moment.

A nurse pushed open the hospital room door. "Family members, please step aside. We're taking her to the operating room now."

Lynette put the authorization away without meeting my eyes.