I bought a dress for six hundred bucks using my husband's shared payment account. Half an hour later, police officers showed up at my door, saying I was suspected of credit card fraud.

I didn't panic. I called my husband first.

He hung up. Texted back：“In a meeting.”

The officers were about to take me in when his secretary called, voice dripping with superiority：“Ms. Henson, CEO Whitney asked me to file the report. He says all you do is spend his money and bleed him dry. He's put up with it long enough.”

I laughed.

What the secretary didn't know was that Daryl Whitney's “CEO” title had been bought and paid for by my father.

I was the company's legal representative. The accounts were under my name. The card linked to that shared payment account was funded every month by my father.

As for Daryl——on his best day, he wasn't worth the dirt on my heels.

“Tell Daryl,” I said into the phone, “the agreement he signed the day he married into my family. Clause Seven. Have him refresh his memory.”

The secretary went silent. When she spoke again, her voice was shaking：“……CEO Henson?”

Too late.

I hung up and turned to the officers：“Family matter. Sorry you came out for nothing.”

After the officers left, I called Daryl.

This time he picked up instantly.

“Honey, I swear I didn't know the secretary did that on her own——”

“Daryl,” I cut him off, my voice even, “I told you the day you came on board. You want out, you can go. You leave the marriage with nothing. Since you feel so wronged, go ahead.”

Silence on the other end for a long time.

Finally he said one word：“Fine.”

……

The secretary's call came while two officers were still planted in my living room.

“Ms. Henson, CEO Whitney asked us to file the report. He says all you do is spend his money and bleed him dry. He's put up with it long enough.”

The officers looked at me. Their expressions said plenty.

I took my time reaching into my bag, pulled out my ID, and handed it over.

“Officers, this card was set up by my father. Every monthly deposit is on record. I'm spending my own money. How exactly is that fraud?”

One of the officers took the ID, glanced at it, then looked back at me.

“Sort out your family business yourselves. But since a report was filed, we have to follow procedure.”

“No need.”

I called Daryl. He hung up.

A text came through：“In a meeting.”

I called the secretary instead.

“Tell Daryl. The agreement he signed the day he married into my family. Clause Seven. Have him refresh his memory.”

Silence on the other end.

When she spoke again, her voice had changed completely：“……CEO Henson?”

I hung up.

The agreement Daryl signed on our wedding day.

Clause Seven：if the husband interfered with the wife's normal spending in any way, he automatically forfeited all post-marital property rights.

Daryl had read that clause, hesitated for three seconds, and signed anyway.

Because his father's company was waiting on my investment.

Not long after the officers left, Daryl came home.

When he walked through the door, I was drinking a yogurt.

“Honey, I swear I didn't know the secretary did that on her own——”

“You didn't know?”

I looked at him. “Your secretary calls the police without your go-ahead? If you hadn't said it to her face first, what—she's just insane?”

Daryl had nothing.

He slipped off his jacket, draped it over the couch, and came over to sit beside me.

I didn't move. I didn't look at him either.

“I was just venting, I didn't think she'd actually do it——”

“Just venting, and the police showed up at my door. Daryl, that mouth of yours is really something.”

He went quiet.

I finished the yogurt, set the cup on the table, and looked up at him.

“I told you the day you came on board. You want out, you can go. You leave the marriage with nothing. Since you feel so wronged, go ahead.”

Daryl's face changed.

“Cicely, that's not what I meant——”

“I don't care what you meant. You called the police and said I committed fraud. That's already done. You've been enduring me a long time? Well, I've been enduring you just as long. Perfect.”

He stood up, walked over, and crouched in front of me, looking up at my face.

Two years of marriage, and every time he wanted something from me, this was the pose.

The first time was the proposal. The second was getting my father to invest in his project. The third was when his father's company ran out of cash.

Now the fourth.

“Cicely, I was wrong. I was really wrong.”

“No, you weren't.” I looked down at him. “Everything you said was true. I do spend money all day. I do take advantage of you. You couldn't stand it anymore. That's perfectly normal.”

“That's not what I——”

“Then why did you call the police?”

He had nothing to say to that.

I stood up. He followed, reaching for my hand. I pulled away.

“I'll have my lawyer draft the agreement. That shared payment account you've been using—cancel it today. The company seal and the legal representative status are both under my name. You don't need to worry about any of it. Just pack your things and go.”

“What about the company?” he finally asked.

“The company has nothing to do with you. My father funded it. The legal representative and the accounts are both in my name.”

“But I——”

“You what? How much did you actually contribute? Daryl, that project of yours—from approval to launch, which part wasn't your father begging my father to make happen? What did you do yourself?”

His face went red.

I looked at him and suddenly found him boring. I used to think he was good-looking, knew how to talk, the kind of man you were proud to have on your arm.

Now? Just another face.

“I'm giving you three days.”

I picked up my phone and headed for the master bedroom.

He grabbed my wrist.

“Cicely, you really want to do this?”

“Do what?”

“Aren't you afraid of what people will say——”

“Say what? That you married into my family, spent my family's money, and then called the police on me? Are you really sure I'm the one who should be embarrassed?”

His grip loosened.

I went into the bedroom and shut the door.

Half an hour later, my parents arrived.

My mother started shouting the second she walked in：“Where's Daryl? Get him out here!”

Daryl came out of the study, white as a sheet.

My father sat on the couch, legs crossed, watching him.

“Daryl. Tell me what happened.”

Daryl stood there, mouth opening and closing, and finally managed：“Dad, I was confused.”

“Don't call me that.” My father's voice was quiet, but cold. “When you signed the agreement, you said you'd treat Cicely well. It's been two years, and you called the police to have her arrested?”

“I didn't mean to call the police, it was my secretary——”

“She's your secretary, not some hitman you hired. She does what you tell her. What's your point?”

Daryl went silent.

My mother turned to me：“Are you alright?”

“I'm fine.”

“Where's the dress? Let me see it.”

I blinked, caught off guard.

My mother shot me a look：“A six-hundred-dollar dress and you couldn't just buy it? You had to swipe his card?”

“It's Dad's card——”

“Your father's card is your card. Now explain—did Daryl stop you from using it, or did you just refuse to?”

I opened my mouth, then closed it again.

Daryl stood there with his head down, like a schoolkid caught misbehaving.

My mother walked right up to him.

“How much do you make in a month? Where does the money you spend come from? Have you ever bought your wife a single piece of clothing?”

Daryl said nothing.

“Whose house are you living in? Whose car are you driving? Who gave you that position at the company?”

Daryl's lips moved. Nothing came out.

“I asked you a question!” My mother's voice went up a notch.

“It was……Dad gave it to me.”

“And you called the police on my daughter?”

“I didn't——”

“You didn't call them? Then who did, a ghost?”

Daryl shut his mouth for good.

My father stood up.

“Three days. You have three days to get out. The house, the car, the company——all of it comes back. Don't like it? Sue me. I'll be right here.”

Daryl lifted his head, looked at my father, then at me.

His eyes were red.

I didn't look at him.

My mother pulled me into the bedroom and shut the door.

“Good riddance. I never liked him.”

“Why didn't you say so earlier?”

“Would you have listened? Back then you thought he hung the moon. Like I could've stopped you.”

I said nothing.

My mother pulled out her phone and started showing me photos.

“This one is Minnie Chavez's son. Came back from the States, works in finance. And this one is Uncle Li's nephew, started his own company——”

“Mom, I'm barely divorced.”

“Exactly why you need to start planning ahead.”

I stared at her, caught somewhere between laughing and crying.

The front door opened and closed.

Daryl was gone.

I opened the bedroom door. My father was still sitting in the living room.

“He left?” I asked.

“He left.” My father looked at me. “You're sure about this?”

“I'm sure.”

“Then get it done.”

Three days later, Daryl came back to collect his things.

He hired movers. They packed two boxes.

I stood in the doorway and watched.

When everything was loaded, he stood on the sidewalk below and looked up at me.

I didn't go downstairs.

He stood there for a while, then turned and left.

The lawyer sent over the signed agreement while I was eating dinner with my mother.

“He signed?”

“He signed.”

“Good. Clean and quick.”

My mother placed a spare rib on my plate.

“So, how about meeting Minnie's son?”

“Mom——”

“Just a meeting. Nobody's making you marry him.”

I gritted my teeth.

“Fine.”

The next afternoon, I was sitting in a café.

Across from me was a man in glasses and a white dress shirt, speaking in an unhurried, measured tone.

“Ms. Henson, Minnie has told me about you.”

“What did she say?”

“That you're exceptional.”

I gave a polite smile.

He slid a business card across the table.

“I'm a financial analyst at a major investment bank. Salary's around four hundred thousand a year. My parents are both back home, retired, fully covered by insurance and savings. They don't need me to support them.”

I picked up the card and glanced at it.

“If you're that much of a catch, why do you need a blind date?”

He smiled.

“Too busy for dating. And.”

He paused.

“I don't want someone who's too materialistic.”

I set the card down.

“Do you think I'm materialistic?”

“Not at all.”

“Then you're wrong. I'm very materialistic.”

He froze.

I stood up.

“Sorry, I have somewhere to be.”

Outside the café, I texted my mother：Not a match.

She replied instantly：How is he not a match?

I thought for a second, then typed two words：Too pretentious.

After I got in the car, a text came in from an unknown number.

“Cicely, I was wrong. Can we talk?”

Daryl.

I deleted the message and blocked his number.

Halfway home, Gloria Fox called.

“I heard you got divorced?”

“Word travels fast.”

“Drinks tonight? My treat.”

“Sure.”

Ten o'clock. I walked into the bar, and Gloria already had a glass going.