To start, I booked out every single gold store in the city and had them craft a peace lock made of solid gold—so big it was taller than a grown man.
Then, I dropped tens of millions to buy an entire island, naming it after Shannah.
I even broke my own rule and created a social media account—something he’d never done before—under the handle [@LoveShan].
My first post was a passionate announcement.
[Grateful for the most important woman in my life—Shannah. She gave birth to my first son. My life is complete now.]
The press conference stretched over three days. Journalists flooded in from every corner of New Jersey, cameras flashing non-stop. Under the glare of the cameras, I held Shannah’s hand like she was my world, smiling from ear to ear.
But even then—behind all the noise, behind the flashbulbs and congratulations—I found myself checking my phone.
Over and over.
Waiting.
Waiting for some kind of update from the villa.
But my phone stayed completely silent.
By the last night, I caved and made the call myself.
“It’s been three days,” I said, trying to sound indifferent. “Has she acted out again? Tried to get to me? Threatened to show up here?”