I married Jonah for money while he was serving a twelve-year prison sentence. At first, I convinced myself it was only a legal arrangement to protect my little brother. But when Jonah finally came home and placed a black box on my kitchen table, I discovered his mother had picked me with a very specific purpose.
I married Jonah for $2,000 a month while he was behind bars for twelve years, telling myself it was about survival—not love.
I was twenty-seven, raising my younger brother, Owen, and that morning our landlord had taped a final eviction notice to the apartment door.
Three years later, Jonah walked out of prison, set a black box on my kitchen table, and revealed why his mother had really chosen me.
That was when I realized poverty had never made me invisible.
It had simply made me valuable.
Owen spotted the rent notice before I managed to hide it.
