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Chapter 2 - The First Financial Red Flags

The warning signs began subtly during our engagement. Looking back, I realize I was too blinded by wedding planning to see them for what they were: tests.

We were sitting in my kitchen one Sunday when Eric let out a heavy sigh, staring at his phone.

“Is everything okay?” I asked, pouring him a cup of coffee.

“It’s my mom,” he said, rubbing his temples. “She needs major dental surgery. Implants. It’s four thousand dollars, and her insurance won’t cover it. She’s in so much pain, Claire.”

“That’s terrible,” I said. “Can you help her out?”

He looked down, looking utterly defeated. “I don’t have that kind of liquid cash right now. I’ll have to take out a high-interest personal loan.”

It was a masterful performance. He didn't ask me for the money directly; he maneuvered me into offering it.

“Don’t do that,” I said quickly. “I can transfer the four thousand to your account today. You can just pay me back whenever you’re able to.”

Eric’s eyes widened with simulated shock. “Claire, no. I couldn’t possibly ask you to do that.”

“You didn’t ask. I offered. We’re going to be family, Eric.”

He pulled me into a deep hug, whispering how much he loved me. Over the next three months, he paid back exactly one thousand dollars. Then, the payments quietly stopped. When I gently brought it up, he acted defensive, citing unexpected car troubles.

I let it go. It was just three thousand dollars, a drop in the bucket for my income.

A month later, his younger sister, Brittany, suddenly needed $2,500 for a real estate certification course. This time, Eric transferred the money straight out of our newly opened joint household account without asking me.

“I’m sorry,” he said, looking appropriately sheepish when I confronted him. “I should have asked. It was an emergency. It won't happen again.”

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It was a lie. The financial bleed hadn't stopped; it was just getting started. Eric was testing the fences, figuring out exactly how much of my money he could give to his family before I bit back.

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