What none of them knew was that I'd founded my own company long before I ever married Cynthia. But she'd always dreamed of a simple, quiet life—so I'd stepped back, handed the reins to people I trusted, and became the ordinary husband she wanted.
Then Walter's business started hemorrhaging money. Every domestic avenue dried up.
I saw the worry eating away at my wife, so I made a decision: I'd open the foreign channels myself.
I reached out to contacts overseas, but Walter couldn't communicate with international partners directly. So I turned my attention to Henson Corp, a company drowning in the same waters. I threw them a lifeline and turned them into the bridge Walter needed.
My one condition: Walter Pruitt would be their top-priority client.
It took me a full year to build those connections from the ground up.
On my way home, I'd seen the press conference. Walter, beaming before the cameras, announcing the Pruitt-Henson marriage alliance. I'd told myself it had to be some other girl from the family—a cousin, maybe a niece.
Never Cynthia.
But if I was being honest, the signs had been there for a while.