I Kept His Millions Not Him

Summary

I moved everything ourselves from our damp basement studio to the new place—a cramped, run-down sixth-floor walk-up I’d just bought.

To save a hundred dollars on movers, I made seventeen round trips, hauling heavy boxes up those narrow, creaking stairs.

Darren just stood by the door, watching me silently.

It wasn't until I dragged the final mini-fridge over the threshold and shoved it into the kitchen that my knees finally gave out. I collapsed onto a packing crate, reaching for a bottle of water, ready to take a sip.

That was when he spoke.