Chapter 4

"Mark, be smart and weigh your options," Hannah urged, her voice sickeningly sweet. "That's thirty years of mortgage payments, not to mention your car loan. Paying it off in two years means you get to skip forty-eight years of wage-slave misery."

"Just look the other way for a couple of years, and you walk away with a paid-off house and a luxury car. Why throw away the easiest payday of your life?"

Every word she spoke felt like a heavy hammer smashing into my skull.

Now I understood why Tyler's wife had been so brazen. The bosses had completely trapped their husbands by the throat, exploiting their financial desperation.

Tyler didn't dare ask for a divorce because he was drowning in debt too—and worse, he actually worked at Vance Enterprises.

If he fought back, he’d be fired on the spot and blacklisted across the entire industry. So he had no choice but to smile, swallow the humiliation, and let his wife's boss play god.

The other twenty-plus husbands were probably trapped in the exact same corporate web, forced into submission by predatory wealth.

Part of me was tempted by the financial freedom, but my core principles violently rebelled. I was a man. If I willingly petted my own head while another man took my wife, what was left of my manhood?

Yet, if I refused, that crushing debt would drown me alive...

"I... I need time to think," I choked out, hating how pathetic I sounded.

It was the most spineless sentence I had ever uttered in my entire life. My wife was cheating openly, telling me she would continue to do so, forbidding me from walking away, and I couldn't even slam the door in her face.

Hannah smirked, utterly convinced she had won. Nobody in debt could ever turn down an offer like that.

She wasn't afraid of my refusal at all.

"Fine. I'll give you time. But only three days."

"Don't say I didn't warn you: if you don't agree in three days, I'll just divorce you and quickly marry someone else. You're not irreplaceable."

"There are plenty of naive, desperate guys at the office. I can easily find a pushover to play the role of the devoted husband."

"The only reason I'm offering this to you is that I still have some history with you, and Mr. Vance hates the drama of dealing with second-time divorcees. Don't flatter yourself."

I scoffed internally. Sentimental history? She just didn't want the inconvenience of finding a new puppet.

"I hear you," I muttered. "I'll give you an answer."

Now that the mask was off, Hannah dropped all pretenses. Fearing I might force myself on her and jeopardize her "clean checkup" tomorrow, she kicked me out of our master bedroom, ordering me to sleep on the sofa bed in the guest room.

Staring at the dark ceiling, my heart felt heavy as lead. I couldn't believe the sweet, gentle woman I had met on a blind date had turned into such a calculating monster.

Back then, she had worn a simple white summer dress, smiling softly like a ray of pure sunshine.

Who could have known that beneath that angelic facade lay such rotten depravity?

The private investigator had revealed that she started sleeping with Keith during our second year of marriage.

She had played the innocent, loving wife so well that I never suspected a thing. If Victor's bizarre harem hadn't come to light, I might have spent my whole life living in her web of lies.

I spent the whole night tossing and turning, torn apart by indecision.

Until Victor Vance personally walked into my office the next day—and made up my mind for me.