Chapter 1My Imaginary Wife Sent Me Millions

To save myself a lot of trouble, I always made up a wife.

One afternoon, while out shopping with a coworker, I spotted a jacket I absolutely fell in love with.

The only problem was the price tag—it was a bit steep.

As the sales clerk kept up her relentless pitch, I casually brushed her off. "Ah, never mind. My wife would kill me. Even if I bought it, she’d just make me return it."

I didn't think much of it. But the very next day, a package arrived at the office.

I ripped it open, and there it was—the exact jacket!

My coworker’s eyes went wide. He grabbed the card tucked inside and read it aloud:

"To my wonderful husband: If you love it, you should have it. You deserve the best of everything.

Signed—Your loving wife!"

I froze.

My wife was completely made up.

I had never even been in a relationship. Where the hell did a wife come from?

* * *

I figured Brandon was just playing a joke on me, making up the words as he read. I snatched the card from his hand.

But the elegant, flowing script on the card was undeniable. There it was, written in black and white.

"Damn, Zach. And here I thought you were just complaining all this time," Brandon teased, nudging me. "Saying your wife doesn't let you do this, doesn't let you do that. Turns out she’s incredibly generous. Five grand, just like that!"

A few other coworkers started crowding around my desk.

"I had no idea your wife was so loaded, Zach!"

I forced a tight, artificial smile, my throat completely dry. I couldn't squeeze out a single word.

I’d been at the firm for three months, and my status as a happily married man was rock-solid. Whenever there was a task I didn't want to do or an after-work gathering I wanted to skip, I’d blame it on my "wife." Oh, she’s cooking tonight. Oh, she prefers I stay in.

It was the perfect shield.

But the truth was, I was single. I had been single my entire life. I’d never even held a girl’s hand.

So where did this wife come from?

I snuck a glance at the label. Even the size was a perfect fit.

Who sent this?

For a brief, vain moment, I wondered if I had a secret admirer.

But I had only seen the jacket when I was shopping with Brandon. He was the only one who knew about it.

I quietly watched Brandon’s face.

Nothing. He looked genuinely amused, completely devoid of guilt.

I spent the rest of the day in a daze, unable to focus.

Once I got home, I immediately called the store’s customer service. It was a high-ticket item, so they had to have some record of the buyer.

But after a few seconds of keyboard clattering, the representative said, "I’m sorry, sir. This order was placed anonymously. The customer requested full privacy protection, so we don't have access to their billing details."

Anonymous?

Why so mysterious?

I stared at the jacket for a long time before shoving it into the deepest, darkest corner of my closet.

The next morning, Brandon stopped by my desk. "Hey, Zach, why aren't you wearing the new threads? I was dying to see what a five-thousand-dollar jacket looks like on a regular Tuesday!"

I laughed it off. "Wearing something that expensive to sit in a cubicle? Feels like a waste."

In truth, I was terrified to wear something when I didn't know where it came from.

Brandon dropped it, but before I could ease into my workflow, the receptionist paged me.

"Zach, there’s a package for you at the front desk."

My stomach did a cold flip. I had a terrible feeling about this.

Sure enough, I opened the box to find a luxury cologne set.

And tucked inside was that same card: Your loving wife.

Brandon, who had followed me, gasped. "Isn't this that new limited-edition release? We were just talking about this last week! You said you loved almost every scent in the collection."

He was right. And I vividly remembered saying:

"I’d love to buy the whole set, but my wife would have a fit. She already thinks I have too many bottles cluttering the bathroom."

Brandon shook his head in mock jealousy.

"She wouldn't let you buy it, huh? So she just goes ahead and buys the whole collection for you instead. Man, Zach, what kind of angel did you marry?"

An angel. Right.

An angel so celestial she didn't even exist.

What was happening to me?

Was it really a secret admirer? If so, why not just ask me out? Why play this bizarre game, sending expensive gifts and calling herself my wife?

My mind was a chaotic mess as I stuffed the cologne set into my bottom drawer.

Brandon frowned, noticing my distress. "Hey, you okay? You don't look happy at all. Did you and the wife have a fight?"

I offered a weak, noncommittal smile.

Taking my silence as confirmation, Brandon sighed. "Ah, that explains the gifts. Well, don't stay mad at her too long. A wife that generous deserves a quick apology."

I said nothing.

Instead, I copied the tracking number from the shipping label, found the online merchant, and messaged their support team.

The response was exactly the same:

Hi there! This order was processed anonymously under our high-profile privacy tier. We cannot disclose customer information.

Can you even do that with standard online shopping?

As I sat there, trying to make sense of it all, the receptionist’s voice cut through the office intercom again.

"Zach, you’ve got a delivery. And... you’re going to need help carrying this."