My fiancé had been building his own business for three years, and we'd been living the whole time frugally. He said, "When I succeed, I'll definitely give you the most glamorous wedding. If we make our relationship public now, I'm afraid you'll be looked down on because of me." I believed him. I felt sorry for his so-called "pride," so I ate fast-food burgers with him for three years and went two years without buying a single new piece of clothing. Then his mother, Audrey, fell ill and was hospitalized. When I went to pay the hospital bill, something about his bank statement didn't add up. Every month, there was a large fixed payment from his card, with the memo reading "Claire Carlson's living expenses." I traced the name on the recipient account and found the social media profile of a girl named Claire. It was all photos of her showing off designer bags, dining at fancy steakhouses, and vacationing on tropical islands. It turned out it wasn't that he didn't have enough money to spend. He just didn't have enough to spend on me. His so-called grind was just bleeding me dry to bankroll another girl's glamorous lifestyle.