Testing His Wife: The Billionaire's Secret

Dewitt did not go to the office.

He walked into the damp, dimly lit underground parking garage of the apartment complex. He bypassed the section where he usually parked his hidden luxury cars.

He walked to a dark corner and unlocked a beat-up, ten-year-old black Ford sedan.

He slid into the driver's seat. The cheap fabric scratched against his expensive suit. He started the engine and drove up the ramp, parking the car in the shadows just outside the exit gate.

He kept his eyes glued to the glass doors of the lobby.

Ten minutes later, Eleonora and Frieda walked out. Eleonora was holding onto Frieda's arm, laughing at something the younger girl said.

A sleek, black Lincoln Town Car pulled up to the curb. Maura stepped out and opened the heavy door for them.

Frieda stopped. She looked at the shiny car with wide eyes. Dewitt saw Eleonora wave her hand, clearly lying and saying it was a rental.

The Lincoln pulled away from the curb.

Dewitt slammed his foot on the gas pedal. The Ford lurched forward. He stayed exactly two car lengths behind them, blending perfectly into the morning traffic.

The Lincoln drove straight into Manhattan. It pulled over on Fifth Avenue, stopping right in front of a high-end, exclusive jewelry boutique.

Dewitt parked the Ford across the street, hiding behind a delivery truck.

He watched through the windshield as Eleonora pulled Frieda toward the gleaming glass doors of the boutique.

Dewitt pulled out his phone and hit a speed dial number. He pressed his Bluetooth earpiece into his ear.

Across the street, Eleonora stopped walking. She pulled her phone from her purse and put it to her ear.

"Do not buy her real diamonds," Dewitt ordered. His voice was flat and ruthless.

Through the windshield, he saw Eleonora's shoulders stiffen. She turned away from Frieda and hissed into the phone.

"You are a cold-blooded monster!" she spat.

"It's part of the test," Dewitt lied, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. "If you put millions of dollars of jewelry on her, she might change. Take her to the cheap accessory shop next door. If you don't, I will immediately terminate this 'test' we agreed upon, and our previous arrangement will be completely voided."

Eleonora glared furiously at the street, as if she knew exactly where he was hiding. She hung up the phone violently.

Dewitt watched as Eleonora grabbed Frieda's arm and dragged her away from the diamond boutique, marching into a cheap, fast-fashion jewelry store next door.

Thirty minutes later, they walked back out onto the sidewalk.

Frieda was holding a small, cheap paper box in her hands. She opened it and looked down.

Dewitt squinted. It was a worthless cubic zirconia necklace.

But Frieda's face lit up. She smiled a genuine, radiant smile. She touched the fake stones with absolute reverence.

Dewitt's chest seized. A sharp, physical ache bloomed behind his ribs. She was so happy over a piece of garbage.

Eleonora waved her hand, signaling Maura to bring the Lincoln around. Eleonora and Frieda stood on the corner, waiting.

Suddenly, three men stepped out of the narrow alleyway next to the shop.

They wore dirty hoodies and baggy jeans. Their eyes were locked onto Eleonora's expensive tweed coat and her Birkin bag.

One of the men lunged forward. A silver switchblade flicked open in his hand with a sharp click.

He pointed the blade right at Eleonora's chest. "Give me the bag, old lady!"

In the Ford, Dewitt's blood turned to liquid fire.

His eyes went completely black. He ripped the door handle open, ready to sprint across the four lanes of traffic and tear the men apart with his bare hands.

But before his foot hit the pavement, Frieda moved.

She didn't scream. She didn't run.

She stepped directly in front of Eleonora, using her own body as a human shield.

Dewitt froze, one foot out of the car.

Frieda's face was pale, but her eyes were wild and furious. Like a cornered animal protecting its young.

The mugger laughed and stepped closer, waving the knife.

Frieda didn't hesitate. She reached to her right and grabbed a long, heavy wooden umbrella from a display barrel outside the shop.

She gripped it with both hands. She didn't swing wildly. Terrified but running purely on protective adrenaline, she squeezed her eyes shut for a split second and thrust the heavy metal tip of the umbrella forward with everything she had. By sheer, blind luck, the blunt tip slammed violently directly into the mugger's wrist.

The man screamed in agony. His fingers spasmed. The switchblade dropped to the concrete.

Frieda kicked her worn canvas sneaker out and sent the knife skittering into the street drain.

The other two muggers cursed and stepped forward to attack her.

A massive shadow fell over them. The Lincoln's driver, a man built like a tank, stepped onto the sidewalk and cracked his knuckles.

The muggers took one look at the driver, turned around, and sprinted back down the alley.

Dewitt stood frozen by the open door of his Ford.

He watched Frieda drop the umbrella. Her chest was heaving. She immediately turned around and wrapped her arms around his grandmother, checking her for injuries.

Dewitt's breathing was ragged. His heart pounded violently against his ribs.

He stared at the small, fragile woman who had just risked her life for his family. The sheer awe and respect he felt in that moment swallowed him whole.