Ever since Sylvester got sick, and after his business went under on top of it, I'd turned myself into a spinning top.
I didn't dare stop, didn't dare fall ill, focused on nothing but earning enough to cover his treatment and pay down the debts.
And in doing so I'd let my own health slip.
The test results confirmed it: I did have hepatitis. Thankfully it had been caught early, and with steady treatment I'd recover soon enough.
I picked up my medication from the hospital and walked out, and that was when Sylvester's call came through.
His voice was rushed, strained with helplessness.
"Georgina, the debt collectors are here again. Don't worry about me, just get away, quick."
The last few times he'd warned me like this, I'd rushed back regardless, willing to be beaten and humiliated by that crowd, throwing myself over him to shield his body with mine.
And it turned out all of it had been nothing but a play he'd staged.
The corner of my mouth curved. My voice stayed calm.
"Wait there. I'm coming right back."
I didn't hurry home. Instead I called a college classmate of mine who worked as a lawyer.
"Do some digging for me. Every asset under Sylvester's name, and everything he's given Wanda Pruitt over the years."
My classmate sounded a little taken aback. Not long ago I'd been borrowing money everywhere to scrape together his treatment costs, and now here I was, a completely different woman.
"He's cheating on me. Am I supposed to keep playing the bigger person and let him keep making a fool of me?"
"All right. Consider it done."
Once I'd finished what I had to do, I went home.
Sylvester was sprawled on the floor, staring in terror at the ring of men around him.
"Didn't I tell you not to come back? Why won't you listen?"
His eyes were red-rimmed as he snarled at them. "You've got a problem, you take it up with me. It has nothing to do with my wife."
Contempt curled through me. If I hadn't known the truth, I really might have been moved by that devoted act of his.
"You want your money, fine, that's not out of the question. But you'll have to give me a few days. There's a food company interested in my braised-food recipe, willing to pay a high price for it. Once the paperwork's done, I'll pay back every cent, principal and interest."
The man in charge shot Sylvester a startled glance. After a long moment, he grumbled and cursed, then gave me three days.
Once that crowd was gone, Sylvester grabbed my hand, his face full of shame.
"Georgina, that recipe was passed down through your family. Keep it. Even if one day I'm gone, at least you and Lila could live off it. How can you sell it just like that?"
"When it comes down to it, I'm the one who's been dragging the two of you down. Maybe we should just get divorced."
Over the past year, Sylvester had brought up divorce more times than I could count.
But the more he did, the more I'd felt I should stay and help him through this rough patch.
Now, hearing those same familiar words again, I only nodded.
"That's probably for the best. Lila's still little. We can't not think of our child."
The expression on Sylvester's face shifted. He gave an awkward laugh.
"Right. For our daughter's sake, we grown-ups can't be too selfish."
That night, I woke to find Sylvester gone from bed.
I got up quietly and heard him out on the balcony, on the phone.
"Just hold on a little longer. A month ago I already had my assistant register a shell company, all so I could get my hands on the secret recipe she's holding."
"Once we have that recipe, my dad's factory is saved. Then he'll stop harping on about how you've stuck by me all these years with no name, no title..."
I shook my head and let out a scoff.
No name, no title. What a phrase.
Wanda had no title either, yet he'd cradled her in the palm of his hand and doted on her for eight years. Her son wore the finest clothes and attended an elite private school.
And me, the lawful, rightful wife, worked myself to the bone earning money, threatened every few days by his so-called creditors, not even daring to keep my own daughter by my side.
My phone screen lit up. It was the email from my classmate.
