Split Every Bill to Help the Intern

I logged into our Shared Family Expense Ledger. This month's expenses had been split down the middle by my husband once again. I transferred my half over and joked half-heartedly. "We've been married for years. Are you really worried I'm taking advantage of you?" Miles Thornton didn't answer. It wasn't until my mother died in a car crash that the truth hit. Facing 300,000 dollars in legal fees and funeral expenses, I turned to Miles for help, but sitting behind his desk, he didn't even lift an eyelid. "That's your family matter. I have no obligation to foot the bill for you." I clutched the exorbitant bills, my fingernails digging deep into my palms, and emphasized that I was only asking for a loan. An impatient glint flickered in his eyes. "If you need money, I can recommend a few lending platforms with reasonable interest rates. You know, all my cash is tied up in investments right now." His phone rang, and he stepped outside to take the call. While he was gone, an open file on his computer screen caught my eye. It read: [Susan Griffith's Rescue Fund. $126,000 to smooth things over with her clients. $50,000 for a custom designer gown for her to wear at a gala...] Susan was the underprivileged intern he had taken under his wing. Over our marriage, I had split 635 separate expenses with Miles, and every cent saved had gone straight into that fund. I did the math as well. If I wasn't the one he cared to help, then he had no right to be part of my future. Chapter 1 I was just about to push the door open and step out when I overheard his conversation. "This project of yours has immense potential." Miles Thornton spoke into his phone. "It would be a tragedy if it died because of a lack of funds. I'll transfer half a million to your account right away so you can keep moving forward." The account updated in real time on his monitor. $500,000 was transferred directly to Susan Griffith's account. So, it wasn't that he didn't have cash. He just refused to give it to me. When the call ended, Miles pushed the office door open and handed me the invoice for this month's expenditures. "Remember to transfer your half to me by the 15th." "I don't have the money," I said evenly. He froze, his brows furrowing. "Look, I'm sorry about what happened to your mother, but you can't let that drag down our quality of life." He spoke so calmly, as if my mother were nothing more than a stray pet that had passed away. It hurt me so badly, as if my chest were being ripped wide open. I took a deep, trembling breath. "I want a divorce." The air in the room instantly turned cold. "I insisted on splitting expenses to teach you how to be independent," he sulked, "not so you could throw tantrums whenever you get emotional." "It's not a tantrum," I said, holding his gaze. "I've just discovered that you've been funneling money to someone else all these years." An unmistakable wave of irritation washed over his face. "Were you eavesdropping on my phone call?" A bitter laugh escaped my lips. Ironically, his first instinct wasn't to explain himself or reassure me, but to blame me for invading his privacy. Out of patience, he opened his office door and made a clear gesture for me to leave. "Go home for now," he said coldly. "I'll recommend a few attorneys who can offer you a discount. Figure out the rest yourself." His assistant politely "escorted" me out of the suite. As I walked past the cubicles, whispers rippled. "She only got her job here because of Mr. Thornton in the first place. Now she's trying to scam money out of him for a lawsuit? Who knows if her mother was just pulling an insurance scam anyway?" "She doesn't hold a candle to Susan, who works so hard. Mr. Thornton actually wants to mentor her." "If Daisy hadn't had Mr. Thornton backing her up, she would have been kicked to the curb months ago. Who wants an employee sitting around on a free ride?" ... My phone buzzed with notifications as Miles sent over contact details for a dozen attorneys. [Specialized in financial disputes and criminal law. Discounted rates available.] [Specialized in divorce litigation. Fees negotiable.] ... With every contact that popped up, it felt like my phone was mocking just how utter a failure my marriage was. With a bitter smile, I added one of the attorneys at random and sent a message. [Draft a divorce agreement for me. As soon as possible.] Chapter 2 The next day, I traveled back to my hometown to hold my mother's funeral. My family and my friends waited with me for over three hours, but Miles was nowhere to be found. Restless whispers began to fill the room. "What kind of man misses his mother-in-law's funeral?" "The old lady passed away, and he doesn't even bother to show up?" ... With the burial time fast approaching, I had no choice but to call him, but all my calls went unanswered. Half an hour later, two text messages popped up on my screen. Miles: [I'm out taking Susan to meet a client, so I won't make it] Miles: [I had some flowers sent over for the funeral. Don't worry about splitting the cost. It's on me.] I stared blankly at those lines, my mind flashing back. Years ago, when I was still green in my career and routinely harassed by difficult clients, I had begged Miles to mentor me. Instead, he had handed me a time-tracking sheet. "We split expenses and time as well," he had said. "The hours I spend holding your hand could generate far more value elsewhere. If you can't stand on your own feet, hand in your resignation." It wasn't that he was stingy with his time. It was just that spending it on me was a waste. I stared at the floral arrangement the funeral home had delivered, and the bitterness I'd been holding back finally spilled over in tears. Gritting my teeth, I forced myself through the burial service, standing on the windswept hillside as the icy air stung my eyes. After the funeral, a social media notification flashed on my screen. Susan had posted a new update, captioned: [This coffee shop is so popular! If my boss hadn't stood in line for me, I probably would never have gotten to try it!] In the photo, Miles was standing in a long queue, an expression of patient devotion on his face that I had never once seen. The drive to my mother's funeral would have taken him barely an hour, but it couldn't compete with a cup of coffee for Susan. When I was headed back, the attorney called. "If you want to hold the driver accountable, you'll need to pay the legal retainer as soon as possible so we can file the lawsuit." All told, the legal fees, expert costs, and other expenses came to more than 300,000 dollars. I had always lived frugally, but living alongside Miles meant constant high-end expenses—French fine dining, luxury vacations, designer gowns for corporate galas... Splitting every bill fifty-fifty had basically wiped out my savings. My only option was to mortgage the house my mother had left me. But before I could breathe a sigh of relief, the bank rejected my application. Seconds later, Miles's call came through. "I paid for the down payment and renovations on that house. You can't mortgage it without my consent. I'll send you an itemized bill of what you owe me. Pay back my share first, or I won't authorize you to touch the property." Back then, he had offered to buy my parents a home, personally overseeing everything from architectural blueprints to interior decoration. "Your parents are my parents, too," he had told me tenderly. "If they live comfortably, it will take a huge load off your shoulders." His thoughtfulness had been real; his devotion to my parents had been genuine. But his cold suspicion now was just as real. I let out a self-deprecating laugh and signed a promissory note to get him to back off. He said, "Settling up now ensures we won't have financial disputes down the road." I remained silent. Just as I was about to hang up, a text popped up. Miles: [Susan and I are going on a business trip tomorrow. I'll bring you back a souvenir. You know, tomorrow is our fifth wedding anniversary.] Right then, the attorney emailed over the draft of the divorce agreement. I printed it out and signed my name. As the pen lifted from the paper, I knew there was no tomorrow left for Miles and me. Chapter 3 I spent three grueling days in court while Miles spent his time with Susan on a supposed business trip. Though labeled as work, Susan's social media feed was buzzing. Miles accompanied her to tourist hotspots, posed for photos wearing ridiculous headbands in crowded streets, and even shared food off the same plate despite his severe germophobia. During our honeymoon years ago, he had reminded me of almost everything. "Remember to send me your half for that." My mother's case made progress, with the attorney assuring me we had a strong chance of winning at the final hearing. As I stepped out of the courthouse, my phone vibrated as the company group chat blew up. [Juicy news! The assistant said the hotel had a power outage, so Mr. Thornton and Susan ended up sharing a room!] Susan replied with a blushing emoji: [I'm afraid of the dark, so Mr. Thornton just came over to keep me company. Don't spread false rumors!] Yet attached was a photo of Miles sitting beside her bed, working in the dim light, wearing loungewear that matched hers. The chat erupted with excitement. I closed the app, used my remaining funds to settle Miles's promissory note, and went straight to the office to submit my resignation. The HR manager, Brenda Lindsey, looked at me with concern. "Are you resigning because of what happened to your family? I could talk to Mr. Thornton and ask him to give you a few days to adjust." I gave a bitter smile. "Thank you, Brenda, but I accepted a job overseas." Deep down, I knew Miles's leniency was never meant for me. After finishing the exit paperwork, I rushed toward the courthouse for the final trial hearing. On the way, Miles's name suddenly flashed on my screen. I picked up, only to hear Susan sobbing over the line. "Mr. Thornton had a horrific accident at the construction site! He's in critical condition. You need to get to the hospital right now!" My brain went blank. Even though I was set on divorce, Miles had been my husband for five years. Worst-case scenarios flooded my mind. I hung up on my attorney's incoming call and stumbled into the emergency room. But when I threw open the door to his private suite, Miles was sitting there in a tailored suit, calmly working on his laptop. He didn't look injured in the slightest, and tears were still wet on my cheeks. Susan sprang forward, pointing a DSLR camera straight at my face. "You fell for it! I guess my acting skills aren't too bad." "What is going on here?" I demanded in a raspy voice. Miles closed his laptop and walked over, shoving his hands into his pockets. "I was training Susan so she'd learn how to handle tough clients and use performance to protect herself in high-pressure situations." His lips kept moving, but I couldn't hear anything else. I had walked away from the final trial hearing, only for it to be a sick game between the two of them. "You've gone way too far!" I snapped, shoving the camera away with all my strength. The camera slammed onto the floor, its lens shattering into pieces. Susan instantly burst into tears. "Mrs. Thornton, blame me if you must. Don't blame Mr. Thornton. He was only trying to train me so I could contribute more to the company." Miles gently comforted her, then turned toward me with a gaze cold enough to freeze. "You've made a total mess over your mother's affairs, wasting a massive amount of my time and energy. I was simply taking back what was mine. This has nothing to do with Susan." Watching them support each other made my stomach churn. "Do you have any idea what I just missed..." Miles raised a hand to cut me off. "I don't care about your personal drama." A flicker of hesitation crossed his eyes when he caught sight of my tears, but his tone quickly hardened. "I'm just telling you. Don't let something like this happen again." I let out a hollow laugh as I glanced at him, then at Susan, who was doing a poor job of hiding her triumphant smirk. I turned on my heels and sprinted out of the room. As he watched me disappear down the hallway without so much as a backward glance, something in Miles's chest suddenly sank. But Susan's voice immediately pulled his attention back. "Mr. Thornton, come meet a client with me. It's just nearby." "Alright." The moment I stepped out of the hospital, the attorney called. "I'm so sorry. We lost the case. The court ruled against us, and the defense counter-claimed that your mother attempted an insurance scam, causing significant public backlash online..." I closed my eyes as tears rolled down my cheeks. My mother's dying wish had ended in ruin. As I dragged my exhausted body down the street, the cemetery caretaker called. "Your mother's gravestone has been vandalized! You need to get over here right away!" Chapter 4 My vision went dark, and I nearly collapsed right on the sidewalk. By the time I stumbled into the cemetery, I froze in shock. Susan was swinging a paintbrush, slathering the massive word 'demolish' across my mother's headstone in dripping red paint. Miles stood right beside her, watching silently. I rushed forward like a madwoman and yanked the brush out of her hand. "What do you think you're doing?" Susan put on an innocent face and held up a corporate title deed. "Mrs. Thornton, this cemetery is a real estate investment project under Thornton Group. It can only be used with Mr. Thornton's explicit permission. If you wanted to lease a plot here, you needed to cover half the capital investment costs. You can't just take it." Blood rushed to my head as I whipped out my bank transfer records. "I paid for this plot!" Susan leaned in for a look, then scoffed, "Looks like you got scammed. That seller didn't have the legal right to sell you a blade of grass on this land. I know money's tight for you lately, but you shouldn't resort to shady, underhanded tricks..." Unable to take it any longer, I shoved her back. Miles caught her swiftly, wrapping an arm around her before turning an icy glare on me. "Susan is just stating facts. Why are you putting your hands on her?" He looked down at me, his eyes filled with profound disappointment. "When did you learn to pull cheap stunts like this? It's fine to be broke, but you can't throw away your dignity." The paint dripped down my mother's portrait on the headstone, making it look as though she were weeping tears of blood. "You can't treat my mother like this!" I screamed back, shaking with rage. Miles's face grew even darker. "I'm trying to teach you to do things by the book. We made it crystal clear before we got married that boundaries mattered. Using company assets through illegal means just doesn't fly. Guys, tear it down!" Susan immediately motioned for the demolition crew to push over the headstone. The ceramic photograph shattered into a web of cracks, and Susan triumphantly stepped right on top of it. I screamed and tried to charge forward, but Miles seized my wrist in an iron grip. "When are you going to grow up?" he snapped. "We can just find another plot to lay her to rest. She wouldn't mind anyway." Catching the tears in my eyes, he lifted a hand to wipe them away just like he used to, but I recoiled from his touch. An impatient edge flickered in his eyes. "You've been married to me for five years. You should have learned how to conduct yourself by now." Leaving me with those words, he walked off with Susan without a backward glance. The headstone was reduced to a pile of rubble. I sank to my knees on the cold dirt, clutching the paint-stained fragments of stone as tears finally broke through. My heart had died completely. ... At eight o'clock that night, Miles paced restlessly across the living room floor. When the doorbell rang, he assumed it was me and snapped before he even reached the door. "Where have you been? Why are you only getting home now?" He pulled the door open, only to find a sharp-dressed attorney holding a Manila folder. "I am representing Ms. Daisy Dudley," the attorney said calmly. "I have a document here that requires your signature."