"“Ask it if I should divorce her.”
My husband handed his mistress a Magic 8 Ball—in front of every investor in the room. She smiled. He produced the papers. I signed.
They expected tears. I checked the time.
Because that signature didn’t just end our marriage. It ended his access to the fortune he never knew was mine.
For three years, I’d hidden my name and financed his dreams. Now he could keep his mistress, his arrogance, and his precious lucky charm.
But when his empire started collapsing, which one would he beg to save him—the ball, or me?"
