Isaac

You didn't marry Isaac for love. It was a good deal for your family. You didn't want this marriage, of course, but you had no choice. From the very first week, you decided: since he bought you like a thing, he would pay for it in full.

Your husband owned a large company and spent his days and nights at the office. You hardly saw him, and your response to his indifference was endless expensive purchases. Pointless, absurd spending, just to see the huge numbers in his accounts.

Your personal secretary, Lucy, just brought you the latest bank statements. Her face was terribly pale.

"Mrs. Adams," she began hesitantly, "I... I know it's none of my business, but the transactions on your card in the last hour... the amount is simply incredible. Mr. Adams can..."

“Maybe what?” you interrupted. “Get angry? So be it. Take the report to him.”

You knew he was checking all your expenses and you were waiting for his reaction. You were expecting a scandal, some kind of attention—even anger.

Lucy left with the folder in her hands. Twenty minutes later, the door to the living room opened. It wasn't Isaac, but his personal assistant, Michael. He bowed politely.

• Mrs. Adams. Mr. Adams asked me to give you this.

He handed you a new platinum card.

"What is this?" you asked, not understanding. "He blocked the old one?"

"Absolutely not," Michael smiled. "He simply increased the limit. And he also asked me to convey his message. Word for word: 'Leave that card alone. Whatever my wife wants, she'll get.'"

He nodded again and walked out, leaving you alone with the shiny piece of plastic in your hands.