Yay Latte
The day I found out I was pregnant, my husband, Julian Calloway, told me he had been reborn and wanted a divorce.
“Three months from now, I’ll go bankrupt. You’ll work yourself to death helping me pay off my debts, and you’ll die young.
“This time, I absolutely refuse to drag you down with me. Take this $9,000,000. We’ll get divorced—”
Before he could finish, I picked up the pen and signed.
“Fine. Just transfer the money to my account.”
That evening, while I was gathering my things from the living room, I overheard Julian’s secretary, Naomi Foster, speaking smugly through his phone.
“I can’t believe she’s actually that stupid. How did she ever get into Harvard?
“You made up some ridiculous story about being reborn and going bankrupt, and she actually believed you.”
Julian chuckled.
“Who cares? If she leaves quietly with the money, isn’t that better than having her make a scene?”
I raised an eyebrow.
Of course I knew he was lying.
Because I really had been reborn.
And in one month, Julian Calloway really would go bankrupt.