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 said, “It isn’t. Not the way you think.”

Trent’s voice rose, sharp with fear. “Stop messing with me. There are strangers in the house. They’re taking photos. They say my name is tied to ‘misrepresentation’.”

Misrepresentation. Interesting. That told me Naomi had done more than file a routine response.

“Trent,” I asked evenly, “did you tell your lawyer you purchased that house on your own?”

Silence.

Then, defensively: “That’s what the deed shows.”

“And the down payment?” I pressed.

He hesitated. “You… wired money once,” he said slowly. “But that was just… your savings.”

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