"Otherwise?" He smiled, slow and ugly. "I'll take out a million-dollar loan. In both our names. And you can spend the rest of your life paying it back."
He strolled out, satisfaction rolling off him in waves.
I stood frozen, a stone lodged in my throat.
I'd wanted this marriage so badly once. Dreamed of it. Fought for it.
Now it was a noose around my neck.
He could walk into any bank with our marriage certificate and borrow a million dollars. Spend every cent. And because we were legally married, the debt would be ours. Mine to shoulder whether I'd touched a dime of it or not.
The thought made my stomach turn—bile and helplessness and rage all churning together.
After he left, the softness bled out of my eyes.
Divorce. That's the only thing that matters now.
I tried everything. Reasoned with him. Begged. Even cooked an elaborate dinner just to get him in a good enough mood to discuss terms.
Warren refused. Every single time.
Until one night, three months later.
My stomach was in knots—stress, probably, or maybe I'd finally developed an ulcer from swallowing my anger. I went to the hospital for something to settle it.
That's when I saw them.