Ryan.
My husband.
“Ryan?” I answered quickly. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
For a moment, there was only silence. Then he laughed.
It was not his old, familiar laugh. It was sharp, empty, almost triumphant.
“Nothing’s wrong,” he said. “Actually, everything is perfect.”
I frowned. “I left a board meeting for this. What is going on?”
“My grandmother died two weeks ago,” he said casually. “She left me everything.”
My breath caught. Margaret had always been intimidating, formal, and impossibly sharp. “Ryan… I’m so sorry. But why didn’t you tell me? I would have come to the funeral.”
“Because I didn’t want you there.”
His voice turned cold enough to make my skin prickle.
“She left me seven point three million dollars,” he continued, tasting every word.
Even through the shock, I tried to reach for the marriage I thought still existed. “Ryan, that’s incredible. We can pay off the debt. We can finally—”
