Two years earlier, after my diagnosis, I had done what Wade never expected.
I had stopped trusting in the fading memory of our love and started reading every single legal document I could find.
It was not because I planned revenge, but because illness teaches you a brutal lesson that everyone shows you who they truly are when they think you are weak.
Wade started missing our dinners, then he started hiding his calls, and eventually, Florence appeared as a consultant at the company with a salary large enough to embarrass a brain surgeon.
At first, I said nothing, but I began asking quiet questions.
I learned Wade had pledged our jointly owned assets against risky new loans. I learned he had used company funds to buy personal gifts for his new partner. I learned he had forged my electronic consent on three major transfers while I was heavily sedated under anesthesia.
That was his first major mistake.
His second mistake was forgetting that Potter Enterprises had not begun with his money at all.
It had begun with my family inheritance.
My father had left me a small manufacturing warehouse and a trust, and while Wade brought the ambition, I brought the collateral, the credit, and the first payroll check that kept his dream alive.
