Chapter 2My Imaginary Wife Sent Me Millions

Flowers?

I stood up, numb, and walked toward the lobby. A local courier was standing there, holding an enormous, breathtaking arrangement of deep red roses and orchids. It must have taken up half the counter.

"Zachary?" the courier asked. "Your wife sent these."

I stood frozen. By the time I snapped out of it, the courier was already halfway out the door.

I ran after him, catching him near the elevators.

"Wait! Excuse me. Can you tell me who placed this order?"

The courier gave me a strange look. "Your wife."

I shook my head, my chest tightening. "No, I mean, can I see the account name on the order? On your app?"

The guy looked confused but shrugged and pulled out his phone, scrolling to his job history.

As expected, the sender's profile was completely blank—no name, no picture, just a system-generated ID.

"Look, man, whoever she is, she paid three hundred bucks for the arrangement and left me a hundred-dollar tip," the courier said, his grin reaching his eyes. "Your wife is amazing. You're a lucky guy."

I handed his phone back, my fingers stiff. I managed to force a polite nod.

Back in the office, my coworkers immediately swarmed my desk.

"Are those roses? That looks like a fortune!"

"That’s nothing. His wife didn't even blink at a five-thousand-dollar jacket yesterday!"

"Look, there's a card. What does it say?"

My eyes fell on the small envelope nestled among the petals. I slid the card out.

Sweetheart, please don't be mad at me anymore.

My hand shook so violently I almost dropped the card.

"Seriously, Zach, how could you ever stay mad at her?" one of the account executives joked.

"I'm literally crying. Why can't I find someone like that?"

"Just forgive her already!"

Their teasing voices faded into a dull hum. I kept my eyes fixed on Brandon.

The jacket. The cologne. Only Brandon knew about those conversations.

And now, right after I let him believe my "wife" and I were in a fight, a massive bouquet of apology flowers shows up.

Was this some elaborate prank? Had he figured out that I was lying about being married, and decided to spend a fortune to mess with me?

But Brandon was a junior designer. He didn't have thousands of dollars to throw away on a joke.

Nothing made sense.

With my head spinning, I decided I needed some grounding. After work, I drove over to my Nana's place.

Nana’s small, cozy apartment always smelled of vanilla and baked chicken. She had prepared a massive feast for me, and as we sat down, I wrapped my arm around her shoulders, letting the warmth of her home wash over me.

But then I noticed her ears.

"Nana, where is your hearing aid?"

Nana, whose hearing had been failing for years, squinted at me. It took her a moment to register my words.

"Oh, that silly thing!" she chuckled, waving her hand dismissively. "It fell right into the pond yesterday while I was out by the park. Don't worry about it, sweetheart. I can hear you just fine!"

How could it not matter?

I immediately pulled out my phone and started researching the best medical-grade hearing aids on the market.

"Just get me a cheap one from the drugstore, Zach. Don't go wasting your hard-earned money," Nana insisted, patting my knee.

I stayed the night on her pull-out sofa.

The next morning, a sharp knock on the front door woke me.

Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I stumbled into the hallway. Nana had already opened the door. A delivery driver stood on the porch.

"Delivery for Zachary," the driver said.

Nana stared at the small package, her face lighting up. "Oh, Zach! When did you order this? That was incredibly fast!"

I froze, the sleep instantly draining from my brain. I rushed to the door.

The package in the driver's hand was from a premium audiology brand.

But I hadn't placed the order yet. I had only put it in my online cart the night before.

A cold shiver ran down my spine, raising the hairs on my arms.