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!”

I leaned back, glanced at the divorce papers Naomi had laid out, and answered calmly, “No.”

Then he said the one sentence that made me straighten in my chair.

“They froze the accounts,” Trent whispered. “And there are people at the house.”

I waited—not out of shock, but because I wanted to hear how far he had fallen.

“What accounts?” I asked gently.

His breathing was erratic, like he’d been pacing. “All of them!” he shouted. “My checking. My business credit line. Even the joint one—”

“Our joint account?” I repeated softly.

Trent swallowed. “Yes. And they’re saying my mortgage payment didn’t go through. That it’s overdue. That’s impossible. I have money.”

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