My husband had no idea my annual income was $2.7 million when he screamed at me, “Hey, you sick bitch! I’ve already filed the divorce papers. Get out of my house tomorrow!”

My Chief Financial Officer—because my compensation involved confidentiality clauses and security procedures.

And my bank, to lock down account access.

By sunrise, Naomi had already reviewed the public records. Trent was correct about one thing: his name was on the deed.

What he didn’t understand was the full story behind that deed.

And he certainly didn’t know who had paid the down payment.

At 8:12 a.m., Trent pounded on the guest room door. “I said tomorrow,” he snapped. “I’m serious.”

I opened it partway and met his stare. “I heard you,” I said evenly. “And you’ll be hearing from me soon.”

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