Derek had always been sensitive about money—especially my family’s money. I used to believe it came from pride. Lately it felt more like resentment.
The next morning he stormed into my office unannounced, brushing past the receptionist. He pushed straight into my office and slammed his hand on my desk.
“Give me the keys.”
I blinked at him. “What are you doing here?”
“The sports car,” he snapped. “Your parents gave it to us. That car belongs to me too.”
“It’s titled to me,” I said evenly. “And it’s not even at the house.”
His eyes narrowed. “So you’re hiding it.”
“I’m keeping it safe at the dealership.”
He scoffed loudly. “Do you have any idea how this makes me look? My coworkers are going to see you driving a supercar while I’m stuck in my Audi. People talk.”
“I’m not structuring my life around your coworkers,” I replied.
His face flushed red. He grabbed the anniversary box from my desk and shook it as if something else might fall out. When he realized the fob was the only thing inside, he leaned closer and hissed,
