After my wife jumped from a building over eight million in debt, I reached out to her creditor—a wealthy woman—and booked a hotel room to meet her.
I never expected the person who opened the door to be my wife, Tilda Gilbert, the woman who was supposed to be lying in the morgue.
She slapped me across the face, disgust filling her eyes.
"Jack Delgado, you really disappoint me."
"I've been playing dead for one single day, and you can't wait to throw yourself at some other woman."
I hit the floor and coughed up a mouthful of black blood.
My sworn brother, Ronan Shaw, had his arm looped through Tilda's.
"Tilda, this is all my fault. I'm the one who told you to fake going bankrupt and dying."
"I only wanted to play a little joke on Jack. I never thought he'd fail the test this badly."
The creditor sat on the sofa smoking, laughing as she passed my wife a glass of wine.
"Tilda, honey, I played my whole part in this little show of yours. When the big contracts come around, you'd better think of me first."
Grinning, they packed up the video camera, sneering that a kept man like me had gotten exactly what he deserved.
But not one of them knew I had come here today to die together with her.
Before I stepped through that door, I had already swallowed a lethal chemical.
The moment Tilda took Ronan's hand and walked out of the room, I let out my last breath, unwilling and unforgiven.
Your little joke, and all I have to pay it back with is my life.
——
Ronan strolled over in his leather shoes, the toe of one prodding my stomach, his voice dripping with false concern.
"Jack, you're the one in the wrong this time. We're brothers, but even I can't take your side."
"Even if something really had happened to Tilda, you can't just go find yourself a replacement the same day."
"Did you only ever see Tilda as an ATM? No feelings for her at all?"
I wanted to shout that I wasn't some money-grubbing kept man.
But dead men make no sound.
All I could do was watch Ronan slide his arm around Tilda's shoulders and say, teasing,
"Jack's definitely too scared you won't forgive him, that's why he won't get up."
Tilda's face darkened, and she shot me one look full of loathing.
"It was just one slap. Is that really worth all this?"
"He knows exactly how to make me soft, pulls the same trick every single time."
"I spoiled him too much before. I should have taught him a lesson a long time ago."
She wrapped her arms around Ronan's waist as if I weren't even there, unwilling to spare me so much as a glance.
"If he likes playing dead, then let him."
"Freeze all his cards. Once he's got no money to spend, he'll crawl up fast enough and admit he was wrong."
I couldn't accept it. I wanted to say it all to Tilda's face, make her understand.
But when my soul drifted to her side, I found her bent over, fastening the seatbelt for Ronan in the passenger seat.
That seat used to be reserved for me. Her husband.
But ever since Ronan came to Harbor City from our hometown, the passenger seat had become his.
At first Tilda would still explain.
"Ronan gets carsick easily. Let him have the front."
After enough times, she stopped bothering to explain at all.
Once in a while, when Tilda and I went out alone, I'd just pull open the passenger door and she would frown.
"Ronan's a neat freak, and that cushion's the new one he put in. Go sit in the back."
Three people in one car, and I—her husband in the eyes of the law—was the one who didn't belong.
As the car started, Ronan laid his hand on Tilda's thigh.
"Jack really doesn't know how good he has it. Such a wonderful wife, and he doesn't cherish her."
"If I had his kind of luck, I wouldn't spare another woman even a glance."
Tilda said nothing, letting his hand roam over her without protest.
Ronan's fingertips traced the seam of her slacks, his face taking on a troubled look.
"Even if Jack's angry with me, I can't just leave him like that. Should we go back and check on him?"
"The blood he threw up earlier was all black. I'd hate for something to really happen to him."
