Chapter 4: The Truth About Her Salary

I didn't stand up until dusk had settled in and the cold cut straight through me. Andy couldn't go without a proper resting place.

I wiped my face, staggered out of the cemetery, and kept moving. I didn't have money, but I had a marriage certificate. And if there was one thing Gwen cared about more than anything, it was her reputation.

I took a cab straight to her office. The receptionist couldn't even stop me as I walked right through to the main floor.

"Does anyone know where Gwen Dalton is?"

My voice wasn't loud, but it was enough to silence the entire room.

Someone recognized me and called out, "Ms. Dalton is on a training assignment."

I nodded, forcing a hollow smile.

"Right. Gwen's busy, so busy taking care of Pierce Donovan that she couldn't even come home when her own son died in a car accident."

"You all might not know this, but Mr. Donovan is a single father going through a really tough time, and my wife has been glued to his side around the clock out of the goodness of her heart. She's been pouring money into him hand over fist, too."

The entire floor, which had been buzzing a second ago, went dead silent. The way everyone looked at me changed, and I could feel all of it—the pity, the contempt, and the shock—hitting me like needles from every direction.

An older employee couldn't help but ask, "Mr. Morrison, is that... is that true?"

"Every word." I clenched my jaw, every breath searing.

"My son didn't make it. He's gone. When I went to Gwen for our savings so I could buy him a burial plot, she put a spending limit on the account."

"That money went to watches and cars for Mr. Donovan. They even went on vacation in the Azurine Islands."

The door to the director's office banged open. The HR manager walked out, his face dark as stone. He'd heard every word.

He probably never imagined that the sharp and ambitious Gwen had been hiding something like this beneath her polished surface.

"Mr. Morrison, let's take a breath." He steered me into a conference room, away from prying eyes, his expression conflicted.

"Here's what I can do. The company was planning to issue quarterly bonuses next month. I'll authorize an early release of hers to you."

He tapped a few things on his phone. A moment later, my phone pinged with a text notification.

I glanced at the screen and felt the ground drop out from under me.

"Bank Deposit Notification: 100,000.00."

100 thousand dollars.

I stared at that number and tasted something sharp and metallic rising in my throat.

I remembered it perfectly. At the end of last year, Gwen had come home with three thousand dollars and a pained look on her face.

"Honey, the company had a terrible year. Bonuses were barely anything, and they might even be laying people off next year. You need to watch every penny."

That winter, I collapsed from exhaustion more than once while trying to save every penny I could. I rode the bus for three and a half hours to a follow-up appointment instead of spending 20 dollars on a cab and passed out on the way.

I camped out in the public library during the day for the free air conditioning, then worked on client presentations at home in the dark to reduce the electric bill, and kept at it until my retina detached.

On top of all that, I juggled three jobs at once, delivering food, tutoring, and picking up freelance work, grinding myself down into a bitter, hollowed-out wreck.

My hands were shaking as I looked up.

"How much does Gwen actually make every month?"

The HR manager sighed, apparently done with covering for her.

"Her base salary is 10 thousand dollars. With project commissions and quarterly bonuses on top of that, she takes home at least half a million a year."

Half a million dollars a year.

And the total household allowance I'd received from her over the entire past year didn't even come to 20 thousand dollars.