The Double Life That Ended in Disaster
My name is Katherine Wade, and I lived two very different lives for eight years of marriage. I was a part-time freelance graphic designer who worked from our brownstone apartment and made a little money that barely covered my own costs. I was the founder and CEO of Wade Digital Solutions, a marketing and branding company with forty-two people, offices in three cities, and annual sales that had just crossed the twelve-million-dollar barrier.
At least that’s what I told myself; the lie wasn’t meant to hurt anyone. It was safe. Self-preservation clothed up as a little white lie that got bigger and greater every year until it took over everything.
How It All Began
I met Marcus Chen during the inauguration of a gallery in Chelsea, New York City. I was there for work since one of my clients was releasing a new collection. He was there with friends, and he was charming and attentive in a way that made me feel seen. We talked for three hours that first night while standing in front of an abstract artwork that neither of us liked very much. We found out that we both loved bad reality TV shows and thought breakfast food was fine at any time of day.
When he asked me what I did for work on our second date, I began to tell him the truth. “I own a marketing business—”
“Oh, one of those boss babe types,” he said, cutting me off. His voice was lighthearted, yet there was something about it that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. ” My ex was like that. She was a total workaholic who always put her job before anything else. It was tiring.
There was something about his face that made me stop in the middle of a sentence. His eyes were tight, and his shoulders were tense. “I do graphic design work on the side.” Most of the time, from home. Not too hard.
His whole attitude changed. He calmed down and smiled more honestly. “That’s great. I love that you’re not one of those women who is married to their career. Someone who knows what’s important to them is quite appealing.
I should have stopped things right then. That one comment should have made me go away. Marcus was humorous, good-looking, and interested in me. I had been single for two years following a nasty breakup. I was alone. I told myself it was just a little fib 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 happened. As our friendship grew, I found myself cutting out more and more of my real life. I told him I was going to Boston to see my sister when I had to go on work trips. I told people I was taking evening yoga sessions while I stayed late at work to get ready for client presentations. I made sure that periodicals that wrote about my company never came into our house.
The lies piled up, making a different version of me that was tougher to keep up with but somehow difficult to take apart. By the time Marcus proposed, with a surprise weekend in Vermont and him down on one knee next to a frozen lake, I was too far in to confess the truth without ruining everything.
The Hidden Key to Success
Marcus didn’t realize that I had started Wade Digital from scratch. I started it six years before we met, operating out of a studio apartment in Queens and taking on any client who would employ me. I generated logos for food trucks, came up with social media campaigns for local shops, and slowly but surely built a reputation for knowing how to make brands connect with people.
At the time I met Marcus, I had fifteen employees and was working out the details of a lease for a good office space in Midtown. By the time we got married, I had thirty workers and had just signed a deal with a big retail chain that tripled our sales in a year.
Rebecca Torres, my business partner, was the only one who knew about my secret existence. She always covered for me, going to meetings I should have led, making excuses when clients wanted to see the CEO, and running interference so I could keep up the pretense that I was a small-time freelancer.
Rebecca kept telling me, “You can’t keep this up forever.” “Something’s going to break eventually.”
“I know,” I always said. “I just need to find the right time to tell him.”
But the proper time never came. How do you inform your husband of three years that you’ve been lying about who you are at work? How can you tell him that the small amount of money he thinks you’re making is actually going into accounts he doesn’t know about? Your real income, which is now close to seven figures a year, is paying for almost everything in your shared existence.
The place we resided in? I owned it completely; I bought it two years before we met. Marcus thought it was part of his family’s real estate investment portfolio and that we were living there for less money. I paid for the furniture, the art, and the renovations we did, but the paperwork was so confusing that Marcus really thought he was the main source of income for our family.
I had learned how to do creative accounting and mislead people strategically. My assistant would submit bills for my supposed freelancing work to a PO box I kept, and then she would put the checks into the joint account that Marcus kept an eye on. At the same time, my real corporate salary and dividends went into different accounts that were connected to my firm and were not known to him.
The Will
It was a Tuesday morning in October when the phone arrived. The phone rang with a number I didn’t recognize when I was in my home office. This was the only space where I could be really honest; my CEO identity was behind a locked door.
“Ms. Wade? This is Richard Pemberton from Pemberton and Associates. I’m phoning about the estate of your great-aunt Eleanor.
Aunt Eleanor. My grandmother’s sister was a woman I had only met five times in my life, yet she always sent me nice birthday cards and asked smart questions about my business when we did talk. I knew she had died the month before, but I didn’t expect much more than maybe a sentimental keepsake.
Mr. Pemberton went on to say, “Eleanor was very impressed with how well you did as an entrepreneur.” “She paid great attention to how your business was doing and read everything that was written about it. She intended to make sure that her legacy helped women who, in her words, “refused to make themselves small for anyone.”
My throat got tight. Eleanor’s words, “make themselves small,” made me feel like she was talking to me directly from beyond the grave, telling me exactly what I had been doing with Marcus.
“She’s left you most of her money,” Mr. Pemberton replied. “About forty-seven million dollars after taxes and fees for running the business.”
I chuckled because the number was so ridiculous. “I’m sorry, did you say million?”
“Yes, Ms. Wade. 47 million. Eleanor was rather prosperous on her own, mostly with investments in commercial real estate. She never got 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.”
I sat in my locked office for almost an hour after the call ended, with Eleanor’s comments ringing in my ears. You shouldn’t have to say you’re sorry for it. But wasn’t that what I had been doing for eight years? By disguising my accomplishment and acting like I was less capable, less ambitious, and less accomplished than I really was, I felt sorry for it.
I knew I had to inform Marcus. The inheritance gave me the perfect chance to tell him the truth about my job, explain the lie, and show him that our financial future was more solid than he could have ever dreamed. He would surely get it. The money will surely make the lying okay.
I didn’t know Marcus already knew about the money. Or that he had been planning to leave for months.
The Crash
That night over supper, I decided to tell Marcus everything. I had practiced the talk over and over, trying different ways to do it. First, talk about the inheritance, and then go back and discuss the business. Or you may start with the company success and then add the inheritance as a nice surprise. I even thought about just presenting him my real tax returns and letting the figures speak for themselves.
But I never got home in time for that talk.
A delivery cyclist ran a red light while I was crossing Madison Avenue at 67th Street and going over my opening lines in my head. Someone yelled, and as I turned my head, everything hurt, and I didn’t know what was going on.
The impact broke my left ankle, damaged two ribs, and gave me a concussion so bad that the EMTs insisted on taking me right away to Mount Sinai Hospital. I recall 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.
The most vivid memory I have is asking them to call Marcus. Giving them his phone number. The EMT said, “Your husband is on his way, Mrs. Chen.” “Just stay with us.”
Forty minutes after I did, Marcus got to the hospital. 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 okay?” “he inquired, and his voice was so flat that I could hear it even though I was on medication.
“I think so.” A broken ankle and some damaged ribs. They are running more testing. I need to tell you something, Marcus. —
He cut in, “I can’t do this.”
I blinked because I was perplexed. “Can’t do what?””
“This. Us. Helping you while you waste time and do nothing useful with your life. Katherine, I’ve been patient. I get that your tiny side job doesn’t pay much and only pays for your yoga courses and shopping. But now this? Did you get into an accident because you weren’t paying attention? Bills from the hospital that we probably can’t pay?”
The words hurt more than the bike did. I stared at him while I tried to figure out what he was saying. “Marcus, what are you talking about?” I have great insurance—”
“Through my business,” he said. “Everything we have is because of my salary, my benefits, and the hard work I do while you pretend to be busy.” I imagined that once we got married, you would want to do something real with your life, like help me construct something. But you’re happy to ride my success.
Every word was like a little knife, sharp and on purpose. This wasn’t panic or dread talking; it was something he had been thinking about for a long time, maybe even years. This was what he really thought of me, our marriage, and our lives together.
He continued, “I need you to sign the divorce papers.” “I’ll have my lawyer write them up.” We can do this in a respectful way and split things fairly. You can preserve what you made from your small design projects. I will keep the money I make and the property my family owns. A “clean break.”
The painkillers made everything feel unreal, 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 me money.” I’m tired of it.
He left before I could say anything. I could hear his footsteps echoing down the hospital hallway as I lay there, devastated and shocked, trying to figure out how wrong I had been about everything.
The Hospital’s Secret
It seems that my nurse Angela heard the whole thing. She was in her fifties, had nice eyes, and didn’t have time for bullshit.
“That man,” she remarked as she brought me water and fixed my IV, “is a special kind of stupid.”
Even with everything going on, I almost laughed. “He doesn’t know.”
“Doesn’t know what, sweetie?”
“Anything. He doesn’t know who I really am.
Angela took a seat in the chair that Marcus had left. “Do you want to talk about it? I have time; your X-rays are roughly an hour late.
That’s what I told her. All of it. The business I had constructed, the lies I had said, and the money I had gotten that morning. The plan to tell Marcus everything was spoiled by a biker who didn’t want to stop at a red light.
Angela was quiet for a long time after I was done. Then: “Let me make sure I understand this correctly. For eight years, you’ve been paying for your husband’s needs while he thinks he’s paying for yours? And he just asked you for a divorce so he doesn’t have to keep “taking care of you financially”? ”
When you said it that way, it sounded even more stupid. “Yes.”
“And were you really going to tell him that your net worth is almost fifty million dollars?”
“Forty-seven million from the inheritance, plus my savings and the value of my business.” Yes, perhaps fifty million.
Angela began to laugh. Not polite, but real, full-body laughter that made a few other nurses look over with worry. “Oh, sweetie. No, honey, no. You can’t tell him now. Do you get it? Forget about 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 after everything is done.”
“But that’s—”
“Justice,” Angela said firmly, cutting him off. “That’s fair.” He really 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 signs away any claim to the money he doesn’t know about.
I knew she was right on some level. Katherine, who had kept her accomplishment 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 hadn’t asked about the inheritance that I had said we needed to talk about. They didn’t ask me if I was hurt badly or needed surgery. Hadn’t said anything about being worried about me or being scared of losing me. He used my sickness as an excuse to dissolve 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 stay here?” Angela asked.
“Probably a couple of days.” That concussion needs monitoring, and your ankle needs surgery. Why?”
“Because I have to make some calls.” And I have to hurry before Marcus does something dumb that makes things worse legally.
Angela grinned. “Now you can think clearly. Do you want me to get your phone for you?”
The Meeting of Emergency
I planned what would be the most crucial business meeting of my life from my hospital bed. I called Rebecca first.
“Katherine! I heard about the crash. Are you okay? Do you want me to—”
“I’m okay. Not great, but it works.” Rebecca, Marcus asked me to get a divorce.”
There was no answer on the other end. Then: “What did he do?””
“An hour ago.” In the hospital, right here. He believes that I am a stay-at-home mom who works on the side to make ends meet. He doesn’t know anything about the business, the inheritance, or anything else. What about Rebecca? We need to keep it that way until the divorce is final.
“Wow.” Katherine, I don’t even know what this is. What do you want?”
“I need our lawyer.” I need a great divorce lawyer who works with people who have a lot of money. I need a forensic accountant to look over our personal finances because I have a bad suspicion that Marcus has been doing something shady with the accounts he believes he controls. And I need all of this done fast, discreetly, and completely.
“I’m on it.” Two hours, please.
She gave birth in 90 minutes. I had talked to both lawyers on the phone by late evening—one for the business and one for the divorce—and had a plan in place. The forensic accountant would start right away, going through all the financial records from our eight-year marriage.
Sandra Liu, my company 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 fully separate since then. You have a lot of proof of that separation. In New York, property that is distinct 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 right?” “Why?” I asked.
“Of course. You’re not lying about your assets; if someone asks you directly, you’ll tell them everything. But you don’t have to give him information that he isn’t smart enough to ask for. “He is making decisions based on things that are his fault.” That’s not your problem.”
The plan was in place. I only had to wait for Marcus to act.
The Forensic Discovery
Three days later, the forensic accountant, a very careful woman named Dr. Patricia Wong, called. By then, I was home with my ankle in a surgical boot and my ribs wrapped up, and I was working from my bed with my laptop.
“Mrs. Chen, I have finished the first look into your finances as a couple. “We need to talk.”
The way she spoke made my stomach plummet. “What did you find?””
“Your husband has been taking money out of the joint accounts you set up for him. Over the last three years, over $470,000 has been moved from those accounts to private accounts that are just in his name.
I really did feel dizzy. “Four hundred seventy thousand?””
“That’s the most likely guess. He has been careful; he hasn’t done anything big enough to set off alarms, and he has done it over time, often hiding it as real expenses that were really misdirected. He has also gotten credit cards in both of your names and racked up big balances—about $80,000—on them. He has been making minimum payments on the joint accounts while using the credit for his own purchases.
“What kinds of personal expenses?””
Dr. Wong’s delay was important. “Rooms at hotels. Places to eat. Buying jewelry. Airline tickets for two to the Caribbean last spring, when you were meant to be at a business meeting in Atlanta. I think your husband has been cheating on you and using money he stole from you to pay for it, Mrs. Chen.
It looked like the room was tilting. Every idea I had about my marriage was falling apart right in front of me. “Can you back all of this up?””
“I have everything: receipts, bank statements, credit card statements, and more. Your husband is a lot of things, but he’s not a smart criminal. He left behind a paper trail that a first-year forensic accounting student could easily follow.
“Send everything to my divorce lawyer, James Rosewood.” Also send a copy to Sandra Liu. And what about Dr. Wong? Keep going. “I want to know how deep this really goes.”
Marcus’s girlfriend
My assistant Jennifer, who had worked for Wade Digital for three years and knew about my secret life, told me who Marcus’s girlfriend was.
“Katherine, I have something to tell you that will make you mad.”
“Jennifer, at this point, I don’t think anything could surprise me.”
“Marcus has begun seeing Valerie Chen. You’re Valerie Chen.
Valerie Chen is mine. The person in charge of client interactions for me. A woman I had hired two years ago, mentored personally, and trusted with some of our most important accounts. A woman who had been to our apartment for business meals and met Marcus several times. She knew—she clearly knew—that I was the CEO hiding her name.
I said, “She knows who I am,” and my voice sounded empty. “She knows it all.”
“Yes.” And Katherine, I believe she has been aiding Marcus. Do you remember the financial mistake that kept you out of the corporate accounts for three days last year? I don’t think that was a mistake. And the time your assistant’s PC failed for no reason and lost a week of your calendar? And—
“She’s been sabotaging me.” The discovery was heartbreaking. “Valerie has been working with Marcus to do what? To take from me? To hurt my business?”
“Or to get information for a bigger plan. Katherine, I suppose they’ve been making plans. I suspect your accident just sped up their plans.
I called Sandra Liu right away. “We have a problem.”
Valerie Chen was put on administrative leave and was being looked into for business espionage and fraud within twenty-four hours. Her work laptop showed that she had been in touch with Marcus for months, talking in depth about my business operations, client lists, and financial arrangements.
The emails were quite bad:
Marcus said to Valerie, “We’ll start our own business after the divorce is final and I’ve gotten my settlement.” You bring the client lists and know-how, and I’ll bring the money.” Within a year, we’ll take down Wade Digital.”
Valerie said to Marcus, “She still doesn’t know we know each other outside of work.” She is so dumb to think she can live two separate lives. Her reputation will be ruined when all of this comes out. Who would want to work with a CEO who lied to her husband?”
Marcus tells 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 had known when he got to the hospital that he wanted a divorce. He wasn’t leaving me because he couldn’t support me anymore; he was going because he thought I had just gotten money that he could have in divorce court.
And Valerie, the employee I had trusted, had been giving him inside information the whole time, planning to take my clients and ruin the business I had built.
I called Rebecca. “Plans have changed. We won’t be quiet anymore. “We’re going nuclear.”
The Fight
Exactly one week after my accident, Marcus filed for divorce. The documents came by process server at 8 AM on a Monday and were delivered to our apartment while I was supposed to be sleeping off pain medicine.
James Rosewood was right: Marcus’s proposed settlement was just as offensive. He would keep “his” assets (including family real estate holdings that I actually owned), “his” retirement savings (financed by my money), and “his” automobile (registered and paid for by me). I would get the furniture in our apartment, the money in our joint bank account (which is currently about $3,000 after he systematically drained it), and whatever I made from my “freelance work.”
He was offering me about $50,000 from an eight-year marriage to a woman who was worth more than fifty million dollars. The documents said he was being nice since I had “contributed to the household in non-financial ways.”
When I called James Rosewood, he was smiling. “This is very pretty. I’ve seen communities that are rude before, but this is art. Basically, he’s saying in writing that he thinks you didn’t add anything useful to the marriage.
“What do we do now?””
“We send in our counterproposal. We also want Mr. Chen and his lawyer to come to a settlement conference where we will show them our proof. I think Tuesday is a good day. Is Tuesday satisfactory with you?”
Tuesday went perfectly.
The Conference for Settlement
The conference room at Rosewood & Associates was meant to scare people. It had dark wood and floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over Central Park. There was a table that could seat 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 apparently brought as “emotional support.”
Seeing Valerie’s face when she saw me seated there with Manhattan’s most feared divorce lawyer was worth every penny I was paying in legal costs.
James started off nicely by saying, “Thank you for coming.” “We need to talk about some things about Mr. Chen’s proposed settlement.”
Donald Grayson, Marcus’s lawyer, looked to be having trouble with the setup. “With all due respect, Mr. Rosewood, your firm usually deals with divorces involving people with a lot of money.” This looks like it might not be part of the case. Mrs. Chen is a freelance graphic designer who doesn’t own much.
James said, “That’s an interesting idea.” “Shall we test it?””
He pushed the first 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 the marriage and paid for it with money she made on her own. Mr. Chen has never owned any part of the land.
Marcus turned white. I saw Valerie grab for his hand under the table.
James went on, pushing another 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, mostly from her compensation as CEO of Wade Digital Solutions, a firm she started and owned.
Donald Grayson was flipping over the pages, and his face went from confused to horrified. “I don’t get it. Mr. Chen said 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 really did stand up. “I have to go.”
“Sit down,” Sandra Liu stated in a chilly voice. “You are named in a different lawsuit for corporate espionage, stealing trade secrets, and planning to defraud.” “You aren’t going anywhere.”
Aside from the sound of Donald Grayson turning pages, the room was quiet. With each fresh piece of information, his professional demeanor fell apart. Marcus sat there, his face changing from surprise to recognition to fear to wrath.
He said, “You lied to me,” and his voice shook. “You lied about everything for eight years.”
“No,” I said, my voice firm. “I kept myself safe from this. I made something important and successful, but I didn’t tell you about it since every sign you sent me made me think you couldn’t take being with a woman who achieved more than you did. “I was right.”
“You made me look like an idiot!” 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 corrected, “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, the optics aren’t good for you.
Donald Grayson put the papers away and looked at his client. “Marcus, I need to talk to you alone. Now.
The Deal
It took three more sessions and two months of talks, but the final agreement was very different from what Marcus had suggested at first.
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 credit card obligations, which he racked up while paying for his affair, were now his only burden. The court said that having an affair with stolen money showed “a pattern of financial misconduct and moral turpitude that precluded any claim to spousal support.”
Marcus’s lawyer tried to say that even though I lied about my job, I hurt him emotionally by lying about who I was. The judge didn’t feel sorry for them.
“Mr. During 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 accomplishment because he made it apparent that he wouldn’t like it. You took almost half a million dollars from her, used that money to pay for an affair, and then tried to cheat her out of money in divorce court. ” This court does not find merit in your claims.”
The hammer hit the table. The marriage lasted eight years and then ended. My private life is no longer private. My carefully built protection is no longer needed.
What Happened Next
It’s clear that Valerie Chen was let go. She settled the lawsuit against her for corporate espionage and conspiracy out of court. She paid a lot of money, signed a non-disclosure agreement, and promised never to work in marketing or branding again. I heard that she had moved to Seattle and was working in a field that had nothing to do with her previous job.
Marcus’s accounting license was put on hold while an inquiry into his embezzlement and financial wrongdoing was going on. His name was ruined in the financial circles of Manhattan. The man who’d been so preoccupied with status and image became regarded as the spouse who’d stolen from his successful wife while not even realizing how successful she was.
The exposure helped my business, in fact. When the whole story came out—successful CEO hiding 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 businesses and groups that promote women entrepreneurs.
Rebecca commented 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 that pattern.
The legacy from Aunt Eleanor, which started everything, helped me start a foundation to help women entrepreneurs, especially those who are fleeing marriages or partnerships where they had disguised their professional achievements. The charity helps women get back on their feet after leaving partners who couldn’t be happy for them by giving them legal help, business coaching, and financial advice.
I gave it the name Eleanor Wade Foundation, which is a mix of my aunt’s name and my maiden name, which I got back after my divorce. Katherine Wade. Not Katherine Chen, not the woman who made herself less to make a man feel better about himself. Just me, finally, all the way.
What We Learned
Two years after the divorce, I was asked to speak at a conference for women in business. The person in charge asked me what I wanted to say.
I answered, “Hiding yourself never keeps you safe.” “It only puts off the inevitable and costs you your sense of self.”
I told the whole narrative during my talk: the lies I told, the reasons I gave, and how it all went wrong. After I was done, the questioning started:
“Why don’t you feel bad about the whole thing?”
“I regret the lies I told myself,” I said 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 pretending about who I am.
“Will you ever trust anyone again?””
I said, “I’m learning to trust myself.” “That’s the harder work.” Someone who really loves you doesn’t feel frightened by your success; they enjoy it. And if they feel frightened by it, that tells you everything you need to know about whether they should be in your life.
“What would you say to your past self if you could?””
That question made me stop and think. What would I say to Katherine, who met Marcus at that gallery event and heard him say something about “boss babe types” and then started downplaying her own achievements right away?
“I’d tell her that she made something amazing,” I eventually 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 silent. Then someone asked me the same question that had been asked of me a hundred times since the news came out:
“Do you think Marcus would have stayed if you had told him the truth 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 my success. That’s why I kept it a secret. But what I didn’t get back then was that if you know someone can’t handle your success and you choose them nonetheless, you’re choosing to live a lie forever. It was only a matter of time before things fell apart.
Going Forward
I run Wade Digital publicly and with pride these days. The entrance to my office has my real name on it. There is no doubt that my business cards indicate CEO. When I meet someone new and they ask me what I do, I tell them the truth: I started a successful business from scratch, and I’m proud of it.
I go on dates sometimes, but I’m more careful now than I used to be. I paid close attention to my date’s reaction when I told him about my business for the first time. I looked for the indicators I had missed with Marcus: the faint stiffness, the forced grin, and the subtle withdrawal. I terminated things respectfully after one coffee when I saw them.
When I met Daniel, an architect who runs his own business and knows how hard it is to construct something from scratch, he reacted very differently.
He remarked, “That’s amazing,” with real admiration in his voice. “Starting a business and keeping it going for more than ten years?” That takes a lot of skill. Tell me everything. How did you get your first big client?”
We talked for four hours on our first date. He asked me about my company plan, how my team was set up, and what I was most proud of. He talked about his own problems running a business, asked me smart questions about my experiences, and never once said that my success was scary or off-putting.
“Why didn’t you tell your ex-husband?”” he finally inquired after I told him the story.
“Because he made it clear from the start that he couldn’t handle being with someone who was more successful than him,” I said. “And I thought I could make myself small enough that it wouldn’t matter.”
Daniel was quiet for a while. “I’m sorry that happened to you.” But I’m pleased it taught you not to be tiny anymore. There need to be more ladies who won’t do that.
We’ve been together for six months. It’s not like what I had with Marcus, which was based on falsehoods and hidden anger instead of truth and respect. Daniel celebrates my wins, asks about my problems, and treats my profession as what it is: a success that deserves respect.
I sometimes think about what might have occurred if I had been brave enough to tell Marcus the truth from the start. Would he have shown his actual self sooner, saving me eight years of tiring lies? Would he have shocked me by stepping up and being someone who could really appreciate my success?
But ultimately, I’m thankful for how it all turned out. The lies I told showed me how much it costs to make myself less for someone else’s comfort. The bequest gave me the money I needed to help other ladies not make the same mistake. The end of my marriage gave me the chance to construct a life where I don’t have to hide the best elements of myself.
The Last Revelation
I got an unexpected letter six months after the divorce was official. Linda Chen, Marcus’s mother, sent it. I had known her for eight years, but throughout the divorce, she was entirely on her son’s side.
Dear Kat,
I’m sorry for something I can never fully explain. 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 changed things to make him look terrible.
But in the last few months, I’ve learned more about my son than I ever wanted to know. The reality of his thievery, infidelity, and systematic misuse of your kindness has made me realize that I raised someone who thought he could benefit from your hard work without doing anything.
I also understood that I taught him such ideals. His father and I constantly stressed conventional roles, always said that women’s careers were less important than their husbands’, and always made it seem like successful women were somehow unfeminine or pushy. We gave Marcus a worldview that made it impossible for him to celebrate your successes.
You made something amazing with Wade Digital. You were very patient and kind to Marcus for eight years while he made fun of you. And you showed amazing strength when you finally said you wouldn’t hide anymore.
I don’t expect to be forgiven. I just wanted to let you know that several of us in the Chen family know what Marcus did and are embarrassed of it.