I'd been in a long-distance relationship with my wife for ten years, separated by an ocean. Ten times I'd applied for a marriage-based green card. Ten times I'd been denied.

By the tenth attempt, even the immigration officer looked exhausted. She dropped all pretense and laid it out for me:

"Sir. I have told you—your paperwork is invalid. Your so-called spouse is already a married woman. She has been married for years. Her husband obtained his green card a decade ago. Your marriage certificate is a forgery."

She turned her monitor around so I could see the file myself.

There, in the spousal information field next to my wife's name, was the name of her late sister-in-law's foster brother.

I couldn't believe it. I called her immediately.

Her voice on the other end was breezy, almost bored.

"Our marriage certificate? Yeah, it's fake."

"I married him so his son could come to the States for school—so Joey Abbott could get a better education, a better life."

"It's not like this changes anything for you. You've already waited ten years. What's a few more? Once Joey turns eighteen and his citizenship is locked in, we'll get married for real."

I didn't lose my temper. My voice was perfectly calm.

"No need. I'm not interested in another man's wife."

Then I called my assistant. "Notify Sabina Cobb's overseas employer. Have her terminated. And freeze every card she has on file."

……

Ten years ago, Sabina had lost her chance at an overseas posting—someone else had taken the spot right out from under her.

I couldn't stand watching her wither away in disappointment, so I quietly created an overseas placement program just for her. I personally connected her with the most prestigious universities abroad. I poured tens of millions into securing a faculty appointment for her. I bankrolled every connection, every introduction, every door that opened along the way—helping her assemble a world-class R&D team and rise to become the youngest foreign-hired consultant in the United States.

Because of my visa restrictions, I could only stay in the country for three months each year before I had to leave.

For a decade, I'd been flying back and forth, running myself ragged.

Every single year, I prepared the green card application materials well in advance. I reviewed every last detail, dotted every i, crossed every t, then submitted.

And every single time, it was rejected.

Sabina always reassured me.

"The marriage-based green card process is incredibly strict here, especially when your spouse holds a senior technical position like mine. Getting denied is completely normal. We'll try again next year."

I'd always assumed I was just unlucky.

Now I knew the truth. The woman sleeping beside me had been feeding me forgeries.

I'd even asked Rhys Whitney once—her foster brother—how he'd managed to get his green card, how he could live here permanently with his son.

Every time, Rhys would give me this half-smile, like he was savoring a private joke.

"Guess I'm just lucky."

So that was it.

To say I wasn't gutted would be a lie.

The moment I hung up with my assistant, Sabina's call came through.

I wanted to hear what she could possibly have left to say. So I picked up.

The instant the line connected, her voice hit me like a slap—sharp, scolding:

"Rhys found out you called to interrogate me. He's beside himself. He says he's pulling Joey out of school tonight and flying back home. Joey is in tears because of you."

Right on cue, I heard Rhys's voice in the background, along with his son's sobbing and screaming:

"Bad uncle! You can't kick me and Daddy out! I won't go! This is MY home! I won't let that mean man come here!"

"Edgar Finch, if you need to blame someone, blame me. Don't take this out on Sabina..."

Sabina's voice turned soft and gentle—but not for me. She was speaking to Joey and Rhys.

"As long as I'm here, no one is sending you anywhere."

Then she turned her attention back to the phone. "Now apologize to them. Edgar. Apologize."

I hung up.

I tore every last immigration document to shreds, turned around, and walked home.

That green card? She could keep it. I didn't want it anymore.

Sabina's car pulled up in front of me before I'd gotten very far.

She rolled down the window and said, "I knew you'd be upset. Fine, you don't have to apologize. But honestly, they're in such a tough spot already. Why do you have to get all jealous over the two of them?"

"I came all the way out here to pick you up. Get in."

I didn't feel like arguing. I walked straight to the passenger side.

I opened the door and found Rhys sitting there.

He raised an eyebrow and gave me an apologetic look. "Sorry, Edgar. I'm not feeling well today, so I took the front seat. You can sit in the back."

Sabina glanced at me nervously, her lips parting as she prepared to defend Rhys.

Any other day, I would have frowned and insisted. I would have argued my way back into the passenger seat, the one that belonged to the man of the house.

But today, I said nothing and climbed into the back.

The visa office was eleven miles from downtown. Cabs were nearly impossible to flag down out there. If she was willing to come get me, I'd treat her as a free ride. Nothing more.

Sabina seemed surprised. Her lips moved, and she turned her head to say something to me.

Rhys cut in. "Sabina, the car behind us is honking. Let's go."

I closed my eyes. I didn't know how long we'd been driving when the car finally stopped.

I opened my eyes and found we were parked outside a Michelin-starred restaurant.

When she saw me frown, Sabina smiled. "Rhys knows you're upset about the green card. He's treating you to dinner to make it up to you."

"No thanks," I said flatly. "I want to go home."

But Sabina laughed and pulled me out of the car.

"Come on, be good. We'll sit down and explain everything about the marriage certificate. I promise."

I sat down with a blank expression and spent the entire evening watching the three of them act like a cozy little family.

One moment, Rhys was reaching over to take Sabina's steak and cutting it for her. The next, Joey was whining for Sabina to feed him.

My patience ran out. "If you have something to say, say it."

Sabina took her time. "Let me order some wine first."

The moment she finished ordering, Joey knocked over a glass of red wine.

Rhys yelped.

Sabina turned to me immediately. "Honey, let me take Joey to the restroom to clean up his clothes. Wait here for me."

Rhys shot me a smug look, then took Sabina by the arm and led her away.

I waited for a full hour. Not one of them came back.

Instead, the restaurant manager appeared. He smiled politely. "Sir, we're closing up for the night. Your bill comes to a hundred and fifty thousand dollars."

I froze.

A second later, a message from Sabina lit up my phone.

"You just had to make things difficult for my brother and his son. You still won't apologize. It's only because I loved you too much that you got this entitled."

"I've frozen your card. You're in a foreign country with no money to pay. Let's see if you're ready to back down and say you're sorry."

The manager watched me stare at my phone in silence. He raised his voice. "Sir! Your bill, please!"

Whispers and quiet laughter rippled through the dining room around me.

"Can't afford to eat here, so why bother coming? What an embarrassment to his country."

"People like that should just go back where they came from..."

Countless mocking stares landed on me, each one sharp as a slap across the face.

My phone kept buzzing.

"Edgar Finch, apologize to my brother. Promise you'll never bring this up again. Otherwise, you can sit here until they call the police and haul you off to jail."

I read her message, my expression completely still.

I looked up and spoke in fluent English.

"Call your general manager. Tell him Mr. Finch is here."

The floor manager didn't understand what that meant, but something in her gut told her she needed to do exactly as I said.

After she left, I pulled the bank card from my wallet, snapped it in half, and tossed it in the trash.

Sabina really did think I was nothing more than a kept man, completely dependent on her.

What she didn't know was that I'd long since inherited the fortune my parents left behind. The businesses under my name spanned the globe.

I'd never told her any of this, because when my parents passed away, their will stipulated that if I ever married, I had to conceal my identity from my spouse. The moment my partner discovered who I really was, every cent of my wealth would be seized by the Finch Family Foundation, and I'd be left with nothing but an annual dividend.

I understood their reasoning. They were trying to protect me from gold diggers.

There was a time I believed Sabina was different.

She was driven and hardworking. She'd earned her way to a teaching position at the university through sheer merit, and she'd even been selected for a government-sponsored fellowship abroad.

But when the final list came out, her spot had been handed to someone with connections.

Sabina was devastated. She locked herself in the study and refused to come out.

I couldn't stand watching someone that brilliant be buried alive. So I quietly had my assistant donate an entire building to a prestigious overseas university in exchange for a joint-training placement and a visiting professor position.

When Sabina heard the news, she burst into tears of joy. She threw her arms around me and choked out the words:

"Edgar, I'll work so hard over there. Once I'm settled, I'll bring you here to stay for good."

The truth was, I didn't care about permanent residency.

What I cared about was not wanting to see her for only three months out of every year.

At that thought, a bitter, self-mocking smile tugged at the corner of my mouth.

Sabina had never intended to let me stay here with her.

She'd already given her legal sponsorship to Rhys.

No wonder every time I came back, I'd find things in the house that didn't belong to me.

No wonder every time, even before the three months were up, Sabina would pack my bags and urge me to head home early.

So during the nine months I was gone, the home I'd carefully furnished had another man living in it.

Before long, the general manager walked in. The moment he saw me, he bent at the waist in greeting.

Then he turned to the floor manager and said, "Mr. Finch is our boss. His bill doesn't need to be—"

I raised a hand, cutting him off.

"Why shouldn't it be settled?"

I tapped a finger toward the security camera on the ceiling.

"Skipping out on a bill with malicious intent. That warrants an immediate call to the police. Under local regulations, the outstanding amount should be recovered at ten times the original sum."

Sabina, you had it backwards.

You've been lying to my face all this time without a shred of guilt, and the only reason you got away with it was because you were banking on my love for you.

But when that love is gone—

I want to see exactly where that leaves you.

I returned home. The moment I pushed open the door, I was greeted by a picture of domestic bliss.

Joey sat curled in Sabina's lap, clinging to her and begging for a story.

Rhys stood behind her, kneading her shoulders.

His fingers grazed Sabina's collarbone, and a faint blush crept across her cheeks.

But my gaze locked onto what Rhys was wearing—a set of matching pajamas, nearly identical to Sabina's.

Couple's pajamas.

I'd once bought a set just like them and begged Sabina to wear them with me. She'd scoffed without a second glance.

"Edgar, that's so childish. Only teenagers wear matching pajamas."

The next year, when I came back, the pajamas were gone.