That evening, we attended our ten year anniversary celebration at an elite country club in Palo Alto. My husband confidently mingled with nearly eighty of our friends and family members while continuously checking his phone for a bank confirmation that would never arrive. When it was time for the celebratory toasts, Roderick happily addressed the crowd and boasted about purchasing our future dream home. He fully expected me to deliver a glowing tribute in return. Instead, I stood before the silent room, removed my hat to expose my bare head, and calmly explained exactly what my husband had done to me while I was defenseless in my sleep. I then announced to the completely shocked audience that I had canceled the transfer of the eighteen million dollars. I demanded that he explain to his sister Bridget and the rest of his family who Penelope Foster was and how he intended to fund his secret new life. Watching the sheer panic drain the color from his face was the moment our decade of marriage officially ended.
