When I Discovered Husband Was Billionaire, I Divorced Him

The most recent post was geotagged at a tropical island.

In the photo, he wore an expensive light blue button-down I'd never seen before, his arm around the woman as they stood by the ocean. The sunlight was perfect, making his smile impossibly bright.

"Celebrating Mr. Sterling's promotion! He's officially a junior executive now!"

He'd been telling me lately that work was crazy, always rushing off the phone, but he'd reassure me:

"There's been a ton of orders lately. It's exhausting, but we're getting closer to our goal."

All I could do was tell him to take care of himself, not to push too hard.

I never imagined that his version of "busy" wasn't what I thought it was.

In my mind, he was in the city working as a delivery driver.

During our senior year, my dad's condition deteriorated rapidly. Hospitalizations, paracentesis, albumin infusions, liver dialysis -- every procedure cost a fortune.

Years of treatment had already buried us in debt.

When I needed money the most, Derek brought me his family's savings.

The doctor told us that finding a matching liver donor was nearly impossible and that we should prepare ourselves for the worst.

During that time, Derek visited every hospital he could find, asking whether he could be a living donor -- whether they could transplant part of his liver to my dad.

The tests came back incompatible. It couldn't be done.

But I will never forget how he held me and said, "Ella, I'm so sorry."

He had done everything he possibly could, and he still felt like he'd failed me.

I thought I had found true love.

After my dad passed, Derek said he'd go to the city with a college friend to work and help me pay off the medical debts.

I wanted to go with him, but he said the city was no place for me. He told me to stay home with his parents -- I wouldn't have to work myself to the bone, and I could help look after them on his behalf.

I couldn't refuse. After all, the old couple had given us their life savings for my dad's treatment.

I owed them that much.

When he first got to the city, he said the pay in his field wasn't enough, so he started doing deliveries, working fourteen-hour days.

Knowing he couldn't afford distractions while riding his bike, I rarely reached out to him. When I missed him too much, I'd send a text and wait for him to call when he had time.

I never imagined that his time was actually spent on another woman.

Bars. Restaurants. Movie theaters.

Every hour I thought he was out there hustling for our future, he was actually living a life I couldn't imagine.