He Faked Our Marriage for a Green Card, I Took Everything Back

"Call your manager. Tell her Ms. Taylor is here."

The manager had no idea what that meant, but something in his gut told him he'd better do exactly as I said.

After he left, I pulled out the bank card from my wallet, snapped it in half, and tossed it in the trash.

Lester really thought I was nothing more than a parasite, a vine that couldn't survive without him to cling to.

What he didn't know was that I'd inherited everything my parents left behind. Their holdings spanned the globe.

I'd never told him any of this, and for one reason only: when my parents died, their will stipulated that if I ever married, I had to conceal my identity from my spouse. The moment my partner discovered who I really was, every asset I owned would revert to the family trust, and I'd be left with nothing but an annual dividend.

I understood why they'd done it. They were protecting me from being bled dry.

I used to believe Lester was different.

He was driven, ambitious. His grades were exceptional enough to earn him a faculty position straight out of school. He'd even been selected for a government-sponsored fellowship abroad.

But when the final list came out, his spot had gone to someone with connections. The blow nearly destroyed him. He locked himself in his study for days, hollow-eyed and defeated.

I couldn't bear watching someone that brilliant gather dust. So I quietly had my assistant donate an entire building to a prestigious overseas university. In return, I secured a joint research fellowship and a visiting professorship.

When Lester heard the news, he wept with joy. He pulled me into his arms, his voice breaking.

"Linda, I'm going to work so hard out there. Once I've made something of myself, I'll bring you here for good."

The truth was, I didn't care about a green card.

All I cared about was not wanting our time together limited to three months a year.

The thought drew a bitter smile to my lips.

Lester had never planned to keep me here at all.

He'd already given his legal sponsorship to Jill.

No wonder every time I visited, I'd find things in the house that didn't belong to me. No wonder every time, even before my three months were up, Lester would pack my bags and usher me toward the door.

All along, during the nine months I was gone, another woman had been living in the home I'd carefully made ours.

The restaurant manager returned moments later, and right behind her was the owner's representative. The moment she saw me, she bent at the waist in greeting.

Then she turned to the manager.

"Ms. Taylor is our boss. Her bill doesn't need to be—"

I raised a hand, cutting her off.

"Why wouldn't it need to be settled?"

I tapped a finger toward the security camera on the ceiling.

"Walking out on a check is theft. Call the police. Under local statutes, the outstanding amount should be recovered at ten times its value."

Lester, you had it backwards.

You lied to me all these years without a shred of guilt, and the only reason you got away with it was because I loved you.

Now that love is gone.

Let's see how far you fall.

I went home. The moment I pushed open the door, I was greeted by the picture of a perfect little family.

Henry sat curled in Lester's lap, begging him to tell a story. Jill stood beside them holding a plate of fruit, popping a grape into Lester's mouth every now and then. Her fingertip grazed his lips, and a blush crept across her cheeks.

But my eyes locked onto one thing only: the matching pajama set Jill was wearing. Nearly identical to the one on Lester.

I'd bought those pajamas. I'd begged Lester to wear the matching set with me. He'd barely glanced at them.

"Linda, that's so childish. Only teenagers do that."

The next year, when I came back, the pajamas were gone.

I'd always assumed he'd thrown them away.