Part 1Respect to My Brother-in-Law

Late one night, I stumbled upon my wife and the heir to the Wynott fortune, locked in a passionate kiss.

My wife, Mackenzie, froze in panic.

The heir, Scott, was the picture of calm.

I walked right up to them with a big, friendly smile. "Sis! Bro! Fancy seeing you two out here."

The next day, I was handed the deed to a 2,000-square-foot apartment in Manhattan.

* * *

My wife is exceptionally beautiful.

We were college sweethearts. We got married right after graduation, moved to New York, and crammed ourselves into a tiny walk-up in Queens.

I adored her.

Just looking at her face, I could never bring myself to resent our poverty. I only hated my own inability to provide for her, to give her the life she deserved.

I worked myself to the bone, but in a sinking economy, just not getting laid off felt like a victory.

I was a failure as a man.

Mackenzie and I scrimped and saved, dreaming of buying a place of our own. It’s the quintessential American dream, after all.

But this was New York. The prices were astronomical.

Our meager savings were a drop in an endless ocean. We were destined to fail.