I told him. “I want something honest.”
We tightened the protections around Noah’s trust, and I joined the family foundation’s audit committee—not because I had married into wealth, but because I was good at finding what people tried to hide.
One evening, Daniel handed me the debit card again.
“Whatever you need,” he said.
I smiled and gave it back.
“Keep it.”
He raised an eyebrow.
I took his hand.
“I already got what I needed.”
For the first time in my life, being underestimated hadn’t hurt me.
It had
