I kissed her forehead. “A trophy. Ten million in proof. The deal’s done.”

Her eyes widened. “Is it real?”

“Technically,” I chuckled. “But it’s symbolic, all show. It’s packed with fake bills. The real money is in escrow, transferring Monday.”

She laughed with me, but her hands lingered on the bag. “You trust me with it?” she asked playfully.

I shrugged. “Why not? You’re my wife.”

“I’ll keep it in the closet tonight,” she said. “Just in case.”