Chapter 8 - The Fake Billionaire
The $19,400 was just the tip of the iceberg. Over the next three days, while Eric and his family thought they had successfully subdued me, I uncovered a labyrinth of financial deceit.
I pulled a credit report on our joint file and found a credit card Eric had opened in his name, using our Tribeca apartment as the primary address and my income to boost his credit limit.
I managed to guess his password—it was his mother’s maiden name—and logged into the account.
The statements made my stomach turn.
There were charges for luxury hotels in West Virginia. Receipts for a $5,000 Rolex watch. Thousands spent on high-end furniture shipped directly to Gloria’s address. Cash advances taken out at casinos.
He wasn't having an affair with another woman. He was having an affair with a fantasy.
Eric wanted everyone in his hometown to believe he was a Wall Street titan. He was playing the role of the self-made millionaire, funding a lavish lifestyle for his family, all while secretly draining my resources to do it.
I found his Facebook and Instagram accounts. I rarely used social media, so I hadn’t noticed his recent posts.
There was a photo of him standing on my balcony, holding a glass of scotch. The caption read: “Views from my new Tribeca penthouse. Hard work pays off. #Blessed #WallStreetLife”
There were photos of him treating his high school friends to expensive steak dinners. “Always take care of your day ones. Dinner is on me tonight.”
I sat in the dark glow of my laptop screen, feeling a profound mixture of rage and disgust. He had weaponized my success to inflate his own fragile ego. He had turned my life’s work into a prop for his social media fantasy.
I emailed every screenshot, every bank statement, and every credit card bill directly to Denise.
“I have everything,” I wrote.
Denise replied five minutes later.
May you like
“Stop transferring your salary to the joint account immediately. Open a new, private account tomorrow morning. The war starts now.”
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