When I remarried at 62, I didn’t tell my husband I owned three clothing stores, and it saved me beca

They were a team.

“What about his wife?”

I asked.

“He said she died of cancer.”

Margaret shook her head.

“He was married. Her name was Linda. They divorced in 2014. She’s alive and well in Denver. I spoke to her this morning.”

I couldn’t breathe.

“Linda said Michael was emotionally abusive and financially reckless,”

Margaret continued.

“She left him when she discovered he’d taken out credit cards in her name and maxed them out. She considers herself lucky she got out when she did.”,

I sat there in Margaret’s office staring at the folder, trying to process what I was hearing. The man I’d married was a con artist, a predator who targeted widows, who used his daughter as an accomplice, and who had destroyed at least two women’s lives and tried to destroy a third.

And I was next.

“What do I do?”

I asked. Margaret leaned forward.

“First, you do nothing different. You act normal. You don’t let him know you know.”

“Second, I’m contacting the FBI. This crosses state lines, involves fraud, and identity theft. This is federal.”

“Third, we document everything. Every conversation, every request he makes, every time he tries to access your finances.”

“How long?”

I asked.

“I don’t know,”

Margaret said.

“But Susan, you have one advantage the other women didn’t.”

“What’s that?”

“The prenup and the fact that he doesn’t know the full extent of your assets.”

I nodded slowly.

“Go home,”

Margaret said.

“Act normal. Let him think everything’s fine, and trust me, okay? We’re going to protect you.”

The next six weeks were the hardest of my life. I went home every night to a man I now knew was planning to destroy me.,

I smiled, I cooked dinner, I asked about his day, and I pretended everything was fine. Michael kept pushing about the business.

He suggested I hire him as a consultant. He offered to streamline operations.

He mentioned how much easier it would be if we had a joint business account. I deflected every time.

In mid-April, Jennifer flew in again, supposedly for a work conference. She stayed with us for four days.

She asked me to lunch one afternoon, just the two of us. Over salads, she brought it up again.

“Susan, I want to apologize for before the wedding. I came across too strong.”

“It’s okay,”

I said.

“It’s just that I care about my dad and I want to make sure he’s taken care of. You understand?”

I nodded.

“He mentioned you’ve been reluctant to combine finances. I just want you to know, from a business perspective, there are real advantages to partnership. Tax benefits, liability protection, estate planning.”

“I appreciate your concern,”

I said carefully.

“But I’m comfortable with how things are.”

Her smile tightened.

“Of course. But if you ever change your mind, I’d be happy to help facilitate. I have connections to some excellent business attorneys and accountants.”

“I have my own team,”

I said.

“But thank you.”

That night, Margaret called.

“The FBI is moving,”

she said.

“They’ve been building a case with the Oakland PD and the California AG’s office. They have enough to arrest him on fraud charges related to the previous victims. They’re adding charges related to you based on attempted fraud.”

“When?”

I asked.

“Soon. Days, maybe a week. Can you hold on?”

“Yes,”

I said. Three days later, I came home from my downtown Portland store to find two FBI agents in my living room.

Michael was in handcuffs. Jennifer was being arrested at her hotel.

The lead agent, a woman named Special Agent Torres, walked me through what had happened.

“We’ve been tracking Michael Chen and Jennifer Chen for eight months,”

she said.

“Thanks to your attorney’s cooperation and the evidence you helped us gather, we have enough to charge them both with conspiracy to commit fraud, wire fraud, and identity theft.”,

Michael looked at me from the couch, his face pale.

“Susan, this is a mistake. I can explain.”

“No,”

I said quietly.

“You can’t.”

They took him away. The trial took almost a year.

Michael and Jennifer both eventually pleaded guilty to multiple counts of fraud. The prosecution brought in Patricia, Diane, and Kesha to testify.

Their stories were heartbreaking and infuriating. Michael was sentenced to 12 years in federal prison.

Jennifer got eight as part of the plea deal. They had to pay restitution to their victims.

It won’t be nearly enough to cover what those women lost, but it’s something. I filed for divorce the day after Michael’s arrest.

It was finalized within three months. I never remarried.

I’m 67 now, and I don’t think I will. But I’m okay with that—more than okay.

My three stores are still thriving. I’m training my store manager in Lake Oswego to eventually take over the business when I’m ready to retire.

Lisa’s daughter, my granddaughter Emma, is studying fashion merchandising at FIT in New York. She talks about maybe joining the business someday.

I still have my house. I still have my independence.

I still have my freedom, and I have a story to tell other women. Trust your instincts.

Protect what you’ve built. Don’t apologize for being careful.

The best love story I ever had was the one I had with myself, with my work, and with the life I built from nothing. Everything else is just extra.

And if that makes me cautious, if that makes me suspicious, if that makes me the kind of woman who keeps secrets even from the man she loves, so be it.

Because the only reason I’m standing here today, whole and unbroken, is because I did exactly that.