I paid off my husband’s $150,000 debt. The next morning, I came home to find my belongings stuffed into trash bags and his mistress wearing my silk robe.
One hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Gone in the span of a single, silent heartbeat.
I sat back in my ergonomic mesh chair, staring at the confirmation screen glowing against the dim light of my home office. The sum represented the entirety of the financial wreckage my husband, Jason Carter, had dragged into our marriage. There were the maxed-out platinum credit cards he used to entertain prospective clients who never signed. There was the toxic, high-interest commercial loan he had leveraged to keep his failing boutique marketing firm, Apex Consulting, afloat. And, most oppressively, there was the looming threat of bankruptcy that had hovered over his head for the better part of eighteen months.
But I wasn’t paying off his debt to clear his conscience. I wasn’t the dutiful, self-sacrificing wife bailing out her sinking husband.
