Chapter 1

A year after my parents died in the car crash, the settlement money still hadn't come. When I went to ask about it, the man across the desk told me it had already been withdrawn. By my wife.

I froze for a second, then hurried to call her. She was out of town.

"Yes, I took Mom and Dad's settlement money. Greg needed it for his exhibition, so I—"

Listening to that faintly guilty voice, my whole body shook. My own came out hoarse. "So you used my parents' settlement money to fund his exhibition?"

That wasn't just money. That was my parents' lives.

She rushed on. "Don't worry, Greg's exhibition was a huge success. He and I will be back in a week, and I'll pay every cent of it back to you then."

I gave a soundless, bitter laugh.

Pay it back?

No need. I'd take it back my own way.

1

The livestream of Greg Henson's exhibition was playing on my laptop.

My wife, Queenie James, stood at his side, her eyes full of nothing but him.

A reporter with a microphone was conducting interviews off to the side.

"Master Henson, your very first exhibition, and already such a success. Is there anything you'd like to say to the fans who love your work?"

"There's one person I have to thank. Without her, this exhibition would never have happened."

Greg took the microphone from the reporter, turned to look at Queenie with tenderness, then gripped her hand and raised it high.

"It's her. She added the most important piece to everything I've become."

"It's her. In my failures, in the darkest stretch of my life, she stayed by my side and encouraged me, warmed me like the sun."

"Without her, I wouldn't have any of this."

"On this special day, in front of every reporter, every outlet, and everyone online, I swear I will never fail her."

Queenie pressed a hand to her mouth, moved, two clean lines of tears running down her face.

Warm applause rose up through the livestream.

I sat in my chair with no expression at all, both hands clenched hard into fists.

Today really was a special day.

The one-year anniversary of my parents' deaths.

On the screen, the reporter with the microphone smiled. "Our Master Henson truly is a man of deep feeling. I'm sure everyone would love to know more about this woman who's stood quietly behind him all this time."

"So, Miss James, may I ask you a few questions?"

Queenie wiped her tears and put on a poised smile.

"Of course."

"Miss James, Master Henson just said you were the last piece he needed to make this exhibition happen. As I understand it, you sponsored it with three million dollars. Would you mind telling us why you gave such a large sum, and where the money came from?"

At that question, something in my eyes shifted, and I stared hard at the Queenie on the screen.

Her smile didn't fade.

"That money was entirely my own. Greg and I have known each other for years, and no one understands his gift for painting better than I do. All he ever lacked was a chance. As his closest friend, of course I wouldn't hesitate to put that money forward to support him."

"And the results prove it. My decision was absolutely right."

Snap.

I slammed the laptop shut and clutched a hand over my heart, breathing hard.

It hurt. It hurt so much I couldn't breathe.

My wife took my parents' car-crash settlement to fund her first love's exhibition, called the money her own, and called the decision right.

Heh.

Ha. Ha. Ha.

Then what did that make me?

And my parents, dead in that crash, what did that make them?

A stepping stone on Greg Henson's road to success?

I dragged in a few ragged breaths and called the lawyer who'd handled my parents' accident back then.

"The settlement money, can one spouse use it privately without the other spouse agreeing to it?"

The lawyer on the other end paused, then said, "Of course not. Not unless you're divorced. As long as the marriage is still in effect, that money doesn't belong to either of you privately."

"Good. Then please draft me a complaint. The charge being that she used my parents' car-crash settlement without the agreement of both spouses."

There was a wait before the lawyer's voice came back through the phone.

"Mr. Delgado, are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

"...I'll take care of it as quickly as I can."

"Thank you for the trouble."

I hung up, my gaze settling on the closed laptop.

Queenie James, since you want so badly to help Greg Henson succeed, then I'll drag him down to hell.

You included.