My Best Friend Was My Husband's $3 Million Secret

Horace Dickerson was complaining about my best friend again, shoving his phone at me with a look of disgust.

"Look at what Katherine Pruitt just posted. Tell me that's not dramatic."

I smiled helplessly and made a quiet note in my head.

That was the thirty-seventh time this month he'd brought up Katherine.

Five years, from dating to marriage, and Horace's contempt for her had never let up.

He called her fake, loud, always showing up to mooch a meal off us.

I'd always assumed he just couldn't stand her.