Chapter 4: Three-Year Secret

After I got together with Natalie in college, I tried to talk marriage with my dad. That conversation was the beginning of the end for me at home.

He was so mad, he smashed an antique vase, stood up, and slapped me twice:

“Idiot! With your status, is she really good enough for you?” His voice echoed down the hall. You could hear the old money in every syllable.

“Forget the rest—I made a pact to be family for life with Mr. O’Connor. If you do this, where’s my reputation?”

“It’s fine to play around—date models, influencers, give them breakup money, I won’t care. But you can’t get serious!”

I spat out a mouthful of blood, clenched my fists, and told him firmly:

“No, I want to marry her.”

He frowned, looked out the window, and sighed deeply—the kind of sigh that meant something big was coming. My heart skipped a beat, thinking he might relent.

Unexpectedly, he turned and slapped me twice again:

“Ungrateful kid! I can judge character at a glance. If you had no money or power, with her looks, could you keep her?”

I nodded, refusing to back down. “Let’s see who’s right in the end.”

In the end, my dad and I made a three-year deal.

I’d give up being Caleb Montgomery, not take a penny with me, and live as an ordinary guy—working for every dollar.

He wouldn’t use his influence to interfere, and I’d never ask for help.

If I stayed married to Natalie for three years and we still loved each other, he’d accept her as his daughter-in-law.

It’s almost three years now…

From the start, I noticed something off between her and the general manager.

The chat logs showed the general manager was a sleazeball, every message full of innuendo.

She swore it wasn’t what I thought, even claimed the general manager was gay. So I believed her.

To apologize, I spent all my savings on a Michael Kors bag. I skipped lunches for weeks to make it work.

She smiled awkwardly when she got the gift. I thought she was upset about my spending.

Later, I found out she had an even more expensive bag hidden in her car. The receipt was still in the glove box.

I went home, packed my things, and tossed the keys in the dumpster out front. The night air was sharp, full of the sounds of the city moving on without me.

By the curb, a line of black Escalades sped by, engines roaring. It felt like a movie scene—something about to break.

Uncle Jeff came so fast? Isn’t New York still hours away?

Several big guys stepped out. The leader chewed gum, checked his phone, then looked at me:

“Mr. Harris wants this guy. Grab him.”