I came home early from a business trip, hoping to surprise my husband, Ben. Instead, I found him in the backyard, sweating and frantically burying a massive black egg. When I asked what it was, he panicked and told me to stay away. That night, unable to sleep, I dug it up myself—only to find it was hollow plastic.

The next morning, the news revealed a counterfeit antiques scam involving fake “artifact eggs.” My heart sank. Ben later confessed he’d spent $15,000 of our savings on it, hoping to resell it and take me on the European trip we’d always dreamed of. Shame had driven him to hide it.

I was furious, but in the end, we agreed: no more secrets, no more reckless risks. We’d keep the egg as a reminder—not of failure, but of the importance of trust.