While I Was in Hospital, Husband Emptied Our Accounts—He Didn't Know About My Hidden Fortune скачать в хорошем качестве

While I Was in Hospital, Husband Emptied Our Accounts—He Didn't Know About My Hidden Fortune

While I was fighting for my life in the hospital, my husband Tony emptied our joint accounts and maxed out our credit cards. He texted, "Taking care of our finances during your recovery." What he didn't know was that I had built a secret fortune over the years. When I was discharged, I didn't go home—I went straight to my lawyer with evidence of his deception spanning a decade. By the time he realized what happened, I was living in my dream home while he faced bankruptcy and fraud charges. The antiseptic smell of the hospital room burned my nostrils, a constant reminder that I was trapped in this sterile prison. The rhythmic beeping of monitors tracked my heartbeat, steady now after the emergency surgery that had saved my life. Three days ago, I had been rushing to an important meeting when severe abdominal pain sent me crashing to my knees in our company's parking garage. If Tracy hadn't found me there, the doctors said I might not have survived the internal bleeding from what turned out to be a ruptured ovarian cyst complicated by previously undiagnosed endometriosis. I stared at the ceiling, counting the tiny holes in each acoustic tile to distract myself from the pain that medication couldn't fully mask. Twelve years of marriage to Tony, and this was the first major health crisis I'd faced. We'd always been the power couple—me running my interior design consultancy, him heading the regional office of a national investment firm. Our Christmas cards showed a perfect life: exotic vacations, charity galas, and the beautiful four-bedroom colonial in Westlake Heights that we'd purchased just before our tenth anniversary. My phone buzzed on the side table, and I winced as I reached for it, the movement pulling at my stitches. Tony's name flashed on the screen. "Hey," I answered, relief washing over me. He'd been strangely absent since my surgery, stopping by only once with flowers and a distracted kiss on my forehead before saying he needed to handle some work crisis. I'd been trying not to read into it, telling myself that someone needed to keep things running while I was laid up. "Olivia, how are you feeling today?" His voice sounded distant, the background noise suggesting he was in his car. "Better, I think. The doctor says I'll need at least four more days here, then several weeks of recovery at home." I paused, waiting for him to offer reassurance. "The pain is still pretty bad." "That's good," he said, clearly not listening. "Listen, I'm taking care of our finances during your recovery. Just transferred some funds around to cover your medical expenses. Don't worry about anything, okay?" Something in his tone made my stomach tighten in a way that had nothing to do with my surgery. After fifteen years together—we'd dated three years before marrying—I could read the nuances in Tony's voice like a familiar book. This wasn't his normal confident tone; there was something evasive in it.