The Two Lives That Ended in Disaster
I am Katherine Wade, and I lived two completely different lives for eight years of marriage. I worked as a freelance graphic designer on the side from our brownstone apartment and made just enough money to pay for my personal expenses. I started Wade Digital Solutions, a marketing and branding company with forty-two employees, offices in three cities, and sales that had recently crossed the twelve million dollar milestone.
That’s what I persuaded myself; the falsehood wasn’t meant to hurt anyone. It was safe. A little white lie grew and grew every year until it took over everything.
How It All Started
I met Marcus Chen when a gallery opened in Chelsea, New York City. I was there for work because one of my clients was launching a new line. He was there with friends, and he was pleasant and caring in a way that made me feel like he saw me. We talked for three hours that first night while standing in front of an abstract painting that neither of us liked very much. We learned that we both liked awful reality TV shows and felt breakfast food was good at any time of day.
I started to tell him the truth when he asked me what I did for work on our second date. “I run a business that does marketing—”
“One of those boss babe types,” he muttered, cutting me short. I couldn’t quite put my finger on what it was about his voice that made me feel good. “My ex was like that. She was a workaholic who always put her job first. It was exhausting.
There was something about his face that made me pause in the middle of a sentence. His eyes were tight, and his shoulders were taut. “I do graphic design work on the side.” Most of the time, from home. Not too hard.
His whole demeanor altered. He relaxed and smiled more genuinely. “That’s great.” I adore that you’re not one of those women who is married to their job. It’s quite attractive when someone knows what they want.
At that point, I should have stopped. That one thing you said should have made me leave. Marcus was funny, good-looking, and liked me. After a bad breakup, I had been single for two years. I was by myself. I told myself it was just a tiny lie and that I could explain it better later when he knew me better and saw that I wasn’t like his ex.
But “later” never came. I started to cut out more and more of my real life as our friendship deepened. When I had to go on work trips, I told him I was going to Boston to see my sister. I told folks I was going to yoga classes at night, but I was really staying late at work to get ready for client meetings. I made sure that magazines that wrote about my business never came into our house.
The lies piled up, creating a distinct version of me that was harder to keep up with but somehow hard to break down. I was too far in to tell Marcus the truth when he proposed, with a surprise weekend in Vermont with him down on one knee next to a frozen lake.
The Secret to Success
Marcus didn’t know that I had built Wade Digital from the ground up. I started it six years before we met. I worked out of a studio apartment in Queens and took on any client who would hire me. I made logos for food trucks, came up with social media campaigns for local stores, and slowly but surely earned a reputation for knowing how to link brands with people.
When I met Marcus, I had fifteen employees and was working out the specifics of a lease for a nice office space in Midtown. I had thirty employees and had just negotiated an agreement with a huge retail chain that tripled our sales in a year by the time we were married.
Rebecca Torres, my business partner, was the only person who knew I was alive. She constantly had my back, going to meetings I should have led, making excuses when clients wanted to see the CEO, and getting in the way so I could keep pretending to be a small-time freelancer.
“You can’t keep this up forever,” Rebecca kept saying. “Something’s going to break eventually.”
“I know,” I always said. “I just need to pick the right time to tell him.”
But the right time never came. How do you tell your husband of three years that you’ve been lying about who you are at work? How do you tell him that the little bit of money he thinks you’re making is actually flowing into accounts he doesn’t know about? Your true income, which is now close to seven figures a year, is paying for practically everything you both need.
Where we lived? I owned it all; I bought it two years before we met. Marcus thought we were living there for less money because it was part of his family’s real estate investment portfolio. I paid for the furnishings, the paintings, and the work we made to the house, but the documentation was so complex that Marcus actually thought he was the main source of income for our family.
I had learned how to lie to people and do creative accounting. My assistant would send bills for my purported freelance work to a PO box I kept, and then she would transfer the checks into the joint account that Marcus watched. At the same time, my genuine corporate salary and dividends went into different accounts that were linked to my business and that he didn’t know about.
The Will
The phone came on a Tuesday morning in October. When I was in my home office, the phone rang with a number I didn’t know. This was the one place where I could be completely honest; my CEO identity was hidden behind a locked door.
“Ms. Wade? This is Richard Pemberton from Pemberton and Associates. I’m calling concerning your great-aunt Eleanor’s inheritance.
Aunt Eleanor. I had only met my grandmother’s sister five times in my life, but she always sent me wonderful birthday cards and asked thoughtful questions about my business when we did talk. I heard she had died the month before, but I didn’t expect much more than maybe a sentimental keepsake.
Mr. Pemberton said, “Eleanor was quite impressed with how well you did as an entrepreneur.” “She paid close attention to how your firm was performing and read everything that was written about it. She wanted her legacy to empower women who, as she put it, “refused to make themselves small for anyone.”
My throat got tight. Eleanor’s words, “make themselves small,” made me feel like she was communicating to me from beyond the dead and telling me exactly what I had been doing with Marcus.
“She left you most of her money,” Mr. Pemberton said. “About $47 million after taxes and fees for running the business.”
I laughed because the number was so silly. “Sorry, did you say million?”
“Yes, Ms. Wade. 47 million. Eleanor was quite wealthy on her own, mostly from investments in commercial real estate. She never married, had kids, or wanted her money to go to family members who shared her values. In her will, she said that you were someone who “built something real and shouldn’t have to apologize for it.”
After the call ended, I sat in my locked office for almost an hour, hearing Eleanor’s words in my head. You shouldn’t have to say you’re sorry for it. But wasn’t that what I had been doing for eight years? By pretending to be less capable, less ambitious, and less accomplished than I really was, I felt sorry for it.
I knew I had to tell Marcus. The inheritance offered me the perfect moment to tell him the truth about my employment, explain the deception, and show him that our financial future was better than he could have ever imagined. He would understand. The money would make the lie okay.
I didn’t realize Marcus already knew about the money or that he had been planning to depart for months.
The Crash
That night at dinner, I made up my mind to tell Marcus everything. I had practiced the talk over and over, trying different ways to do it. I could start with the inheritance and then go back and talk about the business, or I could start with the company’s success and then add the inheritance as a nice surprise. I even thought about just giving him my real tax returns and letting the numbers speak for themselves.
But I never made it home in time for that chat.
While I was crossing Madison Avenue at 67th Street and going over my opening words in my brain, a delivery cyclist ran a red light. Someone yelled, and when I turned my head, everything hurt, and I didn’t know what was going on.
The impact broke my left ankle, hurt two of my ribs, and gave me a concussion so bad that the EMTs insisted on taking me right away to Mount Sinai Hospital. I remember bits and pieces of the ambulance ride, like someone holding my hand, people talking about my vitals, and the siren cutting through Manhattan traffic in a way that made me worry.
I remember requesting them to call Marcus and giving them his phone number. The EMT said, “Your husband is on his way, Mrs. Chen.” “Just stay with us.”
Marcus got to the hospital forty minutes after I did. I was in the ER waiting for X-rays, and they had given me a lot of painkillers that made everything look a little blurry. When he walked in, I felt nothing but relief. He was there. I could tell my husband everything now that he was there, and we would work it out together.
“Are you all right? “he asked, and his voice was so flat that I could hear it even though I was on medication.
“I think so.” A shattered foot and some ribs that are hurt. They are doing more tests. Marcus, I need to tell you something. —
He said, “I can’t do this.”
I blinked because I was confused. “Can’t do what?”
“This. Us. Helping you while you spend time and do nothing with your life. Katherine, I’ve been patient. I understand that your small side job doesn’t pay much and only covers your yoga classes and shopping. But now this? Did you crash because you weren’t paying attention? Bills from the hospital that we might not be able to pay? “
The words stung more than the bike did. I looked at him and tried to figure out what he was saying. “Marcus, what are you talking about?” “I have great insurance—”
He responded, “Through my business.” “Everything we have is because of my salary, my benefits, and the hard work I do while you pretend to be busy.” I thought that once we got married, you would want to do something real with your life, like help me build anything. But you’re content to ride my coattails.
There was a keen, purposeful edge to every statement. He had been thinking about this for a long time, maybe even years. It wasn’t panic or fear talking. This is how he genuinely felt about me, our marriage, and our life together.
He went on, “I need you to sign the divorce papers.” “I’ll have my lawyer write them up.” We can do this in a polite way and split things up equally. You can save what you made from your modest design projects. I will keep the money I make and the property my family owns. A “clean break.”
The medications made everything seem fake, like I was watching someone else go through it. “You’re asking me for a divorce while I’m in the hospital?”
“When else would I do it? Katherine, you never tell the truth about anything. You always have something to do that you won’t tell me about.” “I feel like I’m married to a ghost who only wants my money.” I’m sick of it.
Before I could say anything, he went. As I lay there, heartbroken and shocked, trying to figure out how wrong I had been about everything, I could hear his footsteps echoing down the hospital hallway.
The Hospital’s Secret
Angela, my nurse, seems to have heard everything. She was in her fifties, had pretty eyes, and didn’t put up with any nonsense.
“That man,” she said as she brought me water and changed my IV, “is a special kind of stupid.”
I almost laughed, even with all that was going on. “He doesn’t know.”
“Doesn’t know what, honey?”
“Anything.” He doesn’t know who I truly am.
Angela sat down in the chair that Marcus had left empty. “Do you want to talk about it? I have time; your X-rays are approximately an hour late.
I told her everything: the business I had built, the lies I had told, and the money I had made that morning. A motorcyclist who didn’t want to stop at a red light ruined my plan to tell Marcus everything.
After I was done, Angela was quiet for a long time. Then she said, “Let me make sure I understand this right. You’ve been paying for your husband’s needs for eight years while he thinks he’s paying for yours? And now he wants a divorce so he doesn’t have to keep “taking care of you financially”?
It sounded even dumber when you stated it that way. “Yes.”
“And were you really going to tell him that you are worth almost fifty million dollars?”
“Forty-seven million from the inheritance, plus my savings and the value of my business.” Yes, maybe fifty million.
Angela started to laugh. It wasn’t nice, but it was true, full-body laughter that made some of the other nurses look over with worry. “Sweetheart, no. You can’t tell him now. Do you understand? Forget what you were going to do. Let him file for divorce while he thinks you’re the poor little woman he’s leaving behind. ” Let him figure out what he lost when everything is done.”
“But that’s—”
“Justice,” Angela answered firmly, cutting him off. “That’s fair.” He truly showed you who he is. He just cares about you for the money he believes you bring in, and he doesn’t think you bring in any. Keep letting him think so until he gives away all claim to the money he doesn’t know about.
I knew she was right on some level. Katherine, who had kept her success a secret to make Marcus feel better, wanted to run after him, tell him everything, and show him that she wasn’t who he thought she was. But a different Katherine—maybe the CEO I had always been—knew that Angela was giving me something useful: clarity.
Marcus didn’t ask about the inheritance I said we needed to talk about. They didn’t ask me if I was hurt badly or needed surgery. They didn’t say anything about being scared of losing me or worried about me. He used my illness as an excuse to end our marriage, and he did it in a way that made it seem like he had been planning it.
“How long do I have to be here?” “Angela inquired.
“Probably a couple of days.” Your ankle needs surgery and your concussion needs to be watched. Why?
“Because I have to make some calls,” I said, and I need to hurry before Marcus does something stupid that makes matters worse legally.
Angela smiled. “Now that you can think clearly, do you want me to get your phone?”
The Meeting of Emergency
I made plans for what would be the most important business meeting of my life while I was in the hospital. I called Rebecca first.
“Katherine! I heard about the crash. Are you okay? Do you want me to—”
“I’m fine. Not great, but it works.” Rebecca, Marcus told me to seek a divorce.
There was no answer on the other end. Then, “What did he do?” “
“An hour ago.” Right here in the hospital. He thinks I’m a stay-at-home parent who works on the side to make finances meet. He doesn’t know anything about the business, the inheritance, or anything else. How about Rebecca? We need to keep it that way until the divorce is final.
“Wow.” Katherine, I have no idea what this is. What do you want? “
“I need our lawyer.” I need a great divorce lawyer who works with rich people. I also need a forensic accountant to check our personal finances because I have a bad feeling that Marcus has been doing something shady with the accounts he thinks he controls. And I need all of this done quickly, quietly, and completely.
“I’m on it.” Give me two hours.
She delivered birth in 90 minutes. By late evening, I had spoken to both lawyers on the phone—one for the business and one for the divorce—and had a strategy in place. The forensic accountant would start right away, going through all the financial documents from our eight-year marriage.
Sandra Liu, my company’s lawyer, was very clear: “If he doesn’t know about Wade Digital, we should keep it that way.” You started your business before you got married, and you’ve kept your money completely separate since then. You have a lot of proof of that separation. In New York, property that is separate stays separate. To get any part of the business, he would have to show that he helped it succeed.
James Rosewood, my divorce lawyer, was just as blunt: “Let him file first.” Let him decide what the terms are based on what he thinks your finances are like. Don’t change any of his ideas. When he delivers his proposed settlement—and I promise it will be disrespectful because he thinks you have nothing—we will react with discovery demands that will completely change the way he sees the world.
“Is that true? “Why?” “Why?” I asked.
“Of course.” You’re not lying about your assets; if someone asks you directly, you’ll tell them everything. You don’t have to tell him something he doesn’t know how to ask for, though. “He’s making choices based on things that are his fault.” That’s not your concern.”
The plan was set. All I had to do was wait for Marcus to do something.
The Forensic Discovery
Three days later, Dr. Patricia Wong, a very cautious forensic accountant, called. By that time, I was home with my ankle in a surgical boot and my ribs wrapped up. I was also working from my bed with my laptop.
“Mrs. Chen, I have finished looking over your finances as a couple for the first time. “We need to talk.”
The way she talked made my stomach drop. “What did you find?”
“Your husband has been withdrawing money out of the accounts you set up for both of you. More than $470,000 has been moved from those accounts to private accounts that are just in his name over the past three years.
I truly did feel dizzy. “Four hundred seventy thousand?”
“That’s the guess that makes the most sense. He has been careful; he hasn’t done anything huge enough to set off alarms, and he has done it over time, often masking it as legitimate expenses that were really misdirected. He then got credit cards in both of your names and ran up enormous bills on them—about $80,000. He has been paying the minimum on the joint accounts while using the credit to buy things for himself.
“What kinds of personal costs?”
It was vital that Dr. Wong was late. “Rooms in hotels. Food places. Purchasing jewelry. Two airline tickets to the Caribbean last spring, when you were supposed to be in Atlanta for a business meeting. I believe Mrs. Chen that your husband has been cheating on you and using the money he stole from you to pay for it.
The room seemed to be leaning. “Can you back all of this up?” I said. “Every idea I had about my marriage was falling apart right in front of me.”
“I have it all: receipts, bank statements, credit card statements, and more. Your husband is a lot of things, but a smart crook isn’t one of them. He left behind a paper trail that a first-year forensic accounting student could easily follow.
“Send everything to James Rosewood, my divorce lawyer.” Also, send a copy to Sandra Liu. And what about Dr. Wong? Keep it up. “I want to know how deep this really is.”
Marcus’s girlfriend
Jennifer, my assistant who had worked for Wade Digital for three years and knew about my secret life, told me who Marcus’s girlfriend was.
“I have something to tell you that will make you mad, Katherine.”
“Jennifer, I don’t think anything could surprise me right now.”
“Marcus has started dating Valerie Chen. You are Valerie Chen.
Valerie Chen is mine. She was in charge of talking to clients for me. I hired her two years ago, mentored her personally, and trusted her with some of our most important accounts. She had come to our apartment for business meals and met Marcus several times. She clearly knew that I was the CEO hiding her name.
I continued, “She knows who I am,” and my voice sounded empty. “She knows everything.”
“Yes.” And Katherine, I think she has been helping Marcus. Do you recall the financial blunder that held you out of the corporate accounts for three days last year? I don’t think it was a mistake. And the time your assistant’s PC crashed for no reason and lost a week of your calendar? And—
“She’s been trying to ruin me.” The news was devastating. “What has Valerie been doing with Marcus? To get from me? To harm my business? “
“Or to find out more about a bigger idea. Katherine, I guess they’ve been making arrangements. I think your accident only made their plans happen faster.
I called Sandra Liu right away. “We have a problem.”
Within twenty-four hours, Valerie Chen was put on administrative leave and was being looked into for corporate fraud and espionage. Her work laptop proved that she had been in touch with Marcus for months, chatting in full about my business operations, client lists, and financial arrangements.
The emails were really bad:
Marcus told Valerie, “After the divorce is final and I’ve gotten my settlement, we’ll start our own business.” You provide the client lists and know-how, and I’ll bring the money. “Within a year, we’ll take down Wade Digital.”
Valerie said Marcus, “She still doesn’t know we know each other outside of work.” She is so stupid to think she can live two lives. When all of this gets out, her reputation will be wrecked. Who would want to work with a CEO who lied to her husband? “
Marcus says to Valerie, “The inheritance comes at the right time.” She’ll have enough money for a fair settlement, and I’ll get what I’m owed for taking care of her all these years. Then we’ll be free. “Just keep being nice at work for a few more weeks.”
They knew about the money. Marcus knew he wanted a divorce when he got to the hospital. He wasn’t leaving me because he couldn’t support me anymore; he was leaving because he thought I had just earned money that he could get in divorce court.
And Valerie, the worker I trusted, had been telling him things he shouldn’t have known the whole time, with the goal of stealing my clients and destroying the business I had built.
I called Rebecca and said, “Things have changed.” We won’t be quiet anymore. “We’re going nuclear.”
The Battle
Marcus filed for divorce exactly one week after my injury. The papers were delivered to our flat by a process server at 8 AM on a Monday while I was supposed to be sleeping off pain meds.
James Rosewood was right: Marcus’s offer to settle was just as bad. He would take “his” property (including family real estate that I owned), “his” retirement funds (which I paid for), and “his” car (which I registered and paid for). I would get the furniture in our apartment, the money in our shared bank account (which is currently about $3,000 after he deliberately emptied it), and whatever I produced from my “freelance work.”
He was going to give me roughly $50,000 from an eight-year marriage to a woman who was worth more than fifty million dollars. The papers indicated he was being polite since I had “contributed to the household in non-financial ways.”
James Rosewood smiled when I called him. “This is quite nice. I’ve seen harsh communities before, but this is art. Basically, he’s putting in writing that he thinks you didn’t bring anything useful to the marriage.
“What should we do now? “”
“We’re sending in our counterproposal. We also want Mr. Chen and his lawyer to come to a settlement conference on Tuesday, when we can show them our proof. Is Tuesday a good day for you?”
Tuesday went off without a hitch.
The Conference for Settlement
People were supposed to be scared in the Rosewood & Associates conference room. It featured dark wood and windows that went from the floor to the ceiling and looked out over Central Park. There was a table for twenty, but only six people were there: me, James Rosewood, Sandra Liu, Marcus, his lawyer (a partner from a mid-tier firm), and Valerie Chen, who Marcus had allegedly brought as “emotional support.”
It was worth every penny I spent on legal fees to see Valerie’s expression when she saw me sitting there with Manhattan’s most feared divorce lawyer.
James started out well by stating, “Thank you for coming.” Then he said, “We need to talk about some things about Mr. Chen’s proposed settlement.”
It seemed like Donald Grayson, Marcus’s lawyer, was having difficulties with the setup. “With all due respect, Mr. Rosewood, your firm usually handles divorces between people with a lot of money.” This doesn’t seem like it has anything to do with the case. Mrs. Chen is a graphic designer who works for herself and doesn’t own anything.
James responded, “That’s an interesting idea.” “Should we try it?”
He passed the first piece of paper across the table. “This is the deed to the apartment where Mr. and Mrs. Chen live now.” You should know that Mrs. Chen set up a trust for it three years before they got married and paid for it with her own money. Mr. Chen has never owned any of the land.
Marcus’s face turned white. I noticed Valerie reach for his hand under the table.
James continued, pushing another piece of paper across the table. “This is Mrs. Chen’s tax return from last year.” You can see that her adjusted gross income was $2.4 million, most of which came from her job as CEO of Wade Digital Solutions, a company she created and owned.
Donald Grayson was turning the pages, and his expression changed from bewildered to horrified. “I don’t understand. Mr. Chen claimed that—
“Mr. James gently interrupted, “Chen stood for a lot of things that weren’t true.” “Would you like to read the forensic accounting report that shows how Mr. Chen methodically misappropriated about $500,000 from joint accounts that Mrs. Chen paid for? Or maybe the credit card statements that show him paying for an affair with Ms. Valerie Chen here with money he took from accounts his wife filled? “
Valerie truly did get up. “I have to leave.”
“Sit down,” Sandra Liu said in a cold voice. “You are named in another lawsuit for stealing trade secrets, corporate espionage, and planning to defraud.” “You aren’t going anywhere.”
The only noise in the room was Donald Grayson turning pages. Every new piece of information made him less professional. Marcus sat there, his face going from shock to recognition to fear to anger.
His voice shook when he said, “You lied to me.” “You lied about everything for eight years.”
“No,” I responded, my voice strong. “I kept myself safe from this. I made something important and successful, but I didn’t tell you about it because every sign you sent me made me think you couldn’t handle being with a woman who did better than you. I was right.”
“You made me look like a fool! “His voice was getting louder now, and he was no longer acting professionally. “Everyone will know I was married to a millionaire and didn’t even know it!” “”
James said, “Everyone will know that you were married to a millionaire, stole from her, cheated on her with her employee, and then tried to divorce her, thinking you could take her money.” Mr. Chen, things don’t seem good for you.
Donald Grayson placed the papers down and stared at his client. “Marcus, I need to talk to you by yourself right now.
The Agreement
It took three more meetings and two months of talking, but the final deal was considerably different from what Marcus had first recommended.
He didn’t get anything. Not the apartment (which was mine), not the retirement funds (which I paid for all by myself), not the car (which was in my name), and not a share of Wade Digital (which was started before the marriage and he never put any money into it). The court said he had unfairly gained money by stealing it and told him to pay back $470,000 plus interest.
His main problem now was his credit card debt, which he had built up while paying for his affair. The court concluded that having an affair with stolen money proved “a pattern of financial misconduct and moral turpitude that precluded any claim to spousal support.”
Marcus’s counsel tried to explain that lying about who I was affected him emotionally, even if I lied about my employment. The judge didn’t feel sorry for them.
“Mr. At the last hearing, she told Chen, “Your wife did not lie on any legal documents, did not fraudulently claim assets, and did not break any rules about financial disclosure during your marriage.” She didn’t tell her husband about her career success because he made it clear that he wouldn’t like it. You took over half a million dollars from her, used that money to pay for an affair, and then sought to defraud her out of money in divorce court. “This court does not find merit in your claims.”
The hammer smacked the table. The marriage lasted for eight years before it ended. My personal life is no longer private. I don’t need the protection I worked so hard to build anymore.
What Happened After
It’s evident that Valerie Chen was fired. She settled the lawsuit against her for business espionage and conspiracy outside of court. She paid a lot of money, signed a non-disclosure agreement, and pledged to never work in branding or marketing again. I heard that she had moved to Seattle and was working in a field that had nothing to do with what she used to do.
While an investigation into Marcus’s embezzlement and other financial crimes was going on, his accounting license was put on hold. People in Manhattan’s banking circles damaged his name. People saw the man who had been so worried about his status and image as the husband who took from his successful wife without even knowing how successful she was.
In reality, the attention benefitted my business. When the whole story came out—successful CEO disguising her name to protect her husband’s ego, husband stealing, and adultery in response—Wade Digital got a lot of new business from women-owned firms and groups that promote women entrepreneurs.
Rebecca said at our first board meeting after the divorce was final, “Turns out, a lot of women can relate to making themselves smaller for men who don’t deserve it.” They want to work with someone who broke the cycle.
The legacy from Aunt Eleanor, which started everything, allowed me form a foundation to aid women entrepreneurs, especially those who are leaving marriages or partnerships where they had hidden their professional success. The foundation helps women get back on their feet after leaving partners who couldn’t be pleased for them by giving them legal support, business coaching, and financial advice.
I named it the Eleanor Wade Foundation after my aunt and my maiden name, which I obtained back after my divorce. Katherine Wade. Not Katherine Chen, the woman who made herself less to make a man feel better about himself. Just me, all the way.
What We Found Out
Two years after the divorce, I was requested to give a speech at a women’s business conference. The person in charge asked me what I wanted to say.
I said, “Hiding yourself never keeps you safe.” “It only delays the inevitable and costs you your sense of self.”
I told the complete story in my speech: the lies I told, the excuses I offered, and how everything went wrong. After I was done, the questions began:
“Why don’t you feel bad about it all?”
“I regret the lies I told myself,” I stated honestly. “I don’t regret finding out who Marcus really was.” It’s better to learn it through divorce than to spend another ten years trying to be someone I’m not.
“Will you ever trust someone again?”
I said, “I’m learning to trust myself.” “That’s the harder work.” If someone really loves you, they won’t be scared of your success; they’ll relish it. If they are scared of it, it tells you all you need to know about whether they should be in your life.
“What would you tell your younger self if you could? “”
I had to stop and think about that question. What would I say to Katherine, who met Marcus at that gallery event and heard him talk about “boss babe types”? She immediately proceeded to belittle her own accomplishments right away.
“I’d tell her she did a great job,” I finally said. “That Wade Digital shows off her ideas, her work, and her skills. And that anyone who can’t handle that truth isn’t someone worth lying to. I’d remind her that concealing for eight years means convincing yourself you aren’t good enough for eight years. And I would tell her what Aunt Eleanor wrote in her will: “You don’t have to say you’re sorry for making something real.”
The crowd was quiet. Then someone asked me the same thing that had been asked of me a hundred times since the news got out:
“Do you think Marcus would have stayed if you had been honest with him from the start? “”
I said “No” right away. And that’s why I didn’t tell him. I always knew on some level that he couldn’t handle how well I was doing. That’s why I didn’t tell anyone. But back then, I didn’t understand that if you know someone can’t handle your success and you chose them nevertheless, you’re choosing to live a lie for the rest of your life. Things were going to fall apart sooner or later.
From now on
These days, I run Wade Digital in public and with pride. My true name is on the door to my workplace. There is no doubt that my business cards say CEO. I tell people the truth when they ask me what I do: I established a successful business from scratch, and I’m proud of it.
I still go on dates, but I’m more careful now than I used to be. When I told my date about my business for the first time, I paid great attention to how he reacted. I looked for the signs I had missed with Marcus: the slight stiffness, the forced smile, and the gradual withdrawal. I ended things politely after one coffee when I saw them.
Daniel, an architect who operates his own business and knows how hard it is to build something from the ground up, responded completely differently when I met him.
He said, “That’s amazing,” and you could hear how much he meant it. “Starting a business and keeping it going for more than ten years?” That’s a lot of work. Tell me everything. What did you do to get your first major client? “
We talked for four hours on our first date. He asked me about my business plan, how my team was set up, and what I was most proud of. He talked about his own issues operating a business, asked me thoughtful questions about my experiences, and never once stated that my success was intimidating or off-putting.
“Why didn’t you tell your ex-husband?” ” he finally asked after I gave him the story.
I answered, “Because he made it clear from the start that he couldn’t handle being with someone who was more successful than him.” “And I thought I could make myself small enough that it wouldn’t matter.”
For a while, Daniel was quiet. “I’m sorry that happened to you.” But I’m glad it taught you not to be small anymore. There need to be more women who won’t do that.
For six months now, we’ve been together. It’s not like what I had with Marcus, which was based on lies and hidden rage instead of honesty and respect. Daniel is happy for my successes, asks about my issues, and treats my job with respect because it is a success.
I often wonder what would have happened if I had been brave enough to tell Marcus the truth from the start. Would he have showed me who he really was sooner, saving me eight years of tedious lies? Would he have surprised me by stepping up and becoming someone who could actually be happy for my success?
But in the end, I’m glad things turned out the way they did. The lies I told showed me how much it costs to change who I am to make someone else happy. The gift of money helped me keep other women from making the same mistake. The breakup of my marriage provided me the chance to build a life where I don’t have to hide the finest parts of myself.
The Last Revelation
Six months after the divorce was final, I got a letter out of the blue. It was sent by Linda Chen, Marcus’s mom. I had known her for eight years, but during the divorce, she was always on her son’s side.
Dear Kat,
I’m sorry for something I can’t fully describe. After the divorce, I believed everything Marcus said about what happened: that you had lied to him, that you had hidden your money to test him, and that you had somehow modified things to make him look bad.
But in the last few months, I’ve learned more about my son than I ever wanted to know. The fact that he stole from you, cheated on you, and abused your compassion on purpose has made me understand that I raised someone who felt he could get anything for nothing.
I also realized that I had taught him such values. My father and I always highlighted traditional roles. We always said that women’s careers were less significant than their husbands’ careers, and we always made it seem like successful women were somehow unfeminine or overbearing. We gave Marcus a way of looking at the world that made it hard for him to enjoy your wins.
With Wade Digital, you produced something great. For eight years, Marcus made fun of you, but you were very patient and kind to him. And you were quite brave when you finally said you wouldn’t hide anymore.
I don’t think you will forgive me. I just wanted to let you know that a few of us in the Chen family know what Marcus did and are ashamed of it.
