Chapter 1

News of my job transfer reached Rachael Decker that same night.

Within half an hour, I heard her footsteps coming down the hall, quick and heavy.

"Dennis, what do you think you're doing? If you leave, what happens to me and the baby?"

She threw the transfer notice onto the coffee table, her eyes dark as ink.

"Nothing," I said flatly. "I just need some space from the pressure at home."

Rachael looked confused for a moment, until she spotted the round-the-world travel booking sitting under the notice. Her expression cleared, and she gave a knowing laugh.

"So that's what this tantrum is about."

For once, she actually explained herself. "Sean's been by my side for two years. He's hardworking and loyal, so I rewarded him and his family. He earned it."

My eyes stayed fixed on the number: one hundred and ten thousand dollars.

All I'd wanted was a massager that would let me relax a little, and it hadn't even cost fifteen dollars.

"So I don't deserve a massager?"

"Dennis." Rachael's brow furrowed. "Don't be difficult."

She pushed the notice back toward me, her tone leaving no room for argument. "Cancel the job. Now."

When I didn't move, she studied me for a moment, then pulled the prenuptial agreement out of a drawer.

"If you really want to go abroad, go ahead and do the math. You can't afford it."

Clause seventeen of the agreement: for every day she spent pregnant without me by her side, I owed her four thousand dollars.

Every time we had a disagreement, she pulled out that agreement and pointed to the relevant clause.

Even how often we slept together needed to be requested in advance. More than five times a month, and I owed a thirty-dollar fine.

Now even a job transfer had to be converted into a dollar amount.

To the Decker family, I was nothing more than a poor man chasing their money.

When I fell silent, she must have thought she'd won me over, because her voice softened.

"It's not that I won't buy you the massager. It's that every purchase you make gets watched by a dozen pairs of eyes.

"I don't want people saying my husband only cares about money."

I looked up at her. "It was just a massager."

A flicker of impatience crossed her eyes. "Don't assume the whole world has to revolve around you, that everyone owes you whatever you want.

"I'm not buying it for you because I'm trying to teach you something. Otherwise, people will laugh at you."

She was terrified of being talked about for spoiling her husband.

But Sean Wellbrock was her secretary, and everyone already knew exactly how "generous" she was with him.

A watch worth thousands of dollars, a custom suit worth even more, bought without a second thought.

Every purchase got talked about, at the office and at home alike.

Meanwhile, when my grandfather's back pain needed medicine, I had to go through her company and apply for it in person, following the rules to the letter. Six separate steps, and not one of them could be skipped.

In the end, they turned me down. Reason: not a necessary expense; rest at home instead.

A wave of helplessness washed over me.

I looked at her and said, "If I weren't the Decker family's son-in-law, I wouldn't have to follow any of this, would I?

"Rachael. Let's get a divorce."