Chapter 1

At two in the morning, my daughter's fever spiked to 106°F.

Clutching my convulsing four-year-old, I knelt outside the emergency room, frantically dialing my husband's number.

When he finally answered, I choked back a sob and pleaded:

"The doctor said she needs to be admitted right now or the seizures will fry her brain. Can you please just Venmo me three thousand dollars?"

All I got from the other end was his deep, irritated sigh.

"It's just a fever, Nora. Can't you just give her some Tylenol? I'm in an important meeting. Stop bothering me."

Three minutes later.

A notification popped up: He sent me $100.

The memo read: "That's all you get. Don't waste it."

Yet, right on my screen, I saw his latest Instagram story.

A presidential suite at a five-star luxury hotel.

A three-thousand-dollar bottle of vintage red wine, freshly uncorked.

And curled up in his arms, smiling coyly at the camera, was his company's new receptionist.

In the photo, she was wearing a glittering diamond necklace he had just bought her for fifteen thousand dollars.

My daughter was in the ER, unconscious and fighting for her life.

While he was blowing thousands wining and dining another woman.

In that exact second, my heart went completely cold.

"Where are the parents? Can you hurry up?!"

"She's having febrile seizures! We need to admit and stabilize her immediately! Any further delay could be fatal!"

The doctor's urgent shouting snapped me back to reality.

Gritting my teeth, my voice shook uncontrollably: "Can you... please start treatment first? I'll find a way to get the money right now..."

The doctor glanced down at Daisy's pale, purplish face, his expression softening just a fraction: "Wheel her in. But settle the bill as soon as possible."

The ER double doors slammed shut with a heavy thud.

My knees gave out, and I collapsed onto the freezing floor.

The hospital hallway at two in the morning felt like a morgue.

Yet my clothes were soaked through with cold sweat.

I stared down at my phone. His Instagram story was still mocking me.

Without thinking, I hit FaceTime, frantically video-calling Julian.

The phone rang forever before it finally connected.

The camera shook slightly.

Blinding crystal chandeliers, a lavish presidential suite, an expensive bottle of wine on the table, and soft jazz playing in the background—it all crashed into my view at once.

Julian stood there in a plush bathrobe, his face twisted in pure annoyance.

"Are you done yet?"

Tears spilled over my cheeks.

"Julian, Daisy is crashing! Her fever hit 106! The doctor said—"

Julian scowled, cutting me off coldly: "Nora, haven't you put on enough of a show?"

I froze. "What?"

"Using our daughter to guilt-trip me for cash now?"

He sneered. "It's just a damn fever. Every kid gets sick. Do you really have to throw a temper tantrum in the middle of the night?"

I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

"Julian, she's your daughter!"

"And?"

His tone grew even more impatient.

"You think making money out here is easy? All you do is nag me for money."

"Didn't I just transfer you three thousand last month for expenses?"

I bit my lip so hard I tasted copper.

Three thousand?

The mortgage was fifteen hundred.

Daisy's preschool was eight hundred.

Utilities, groceries, tutoring, health insurance...

The leftover change wasn't even enough to cover an emergency room copay.

Yet in his eyes, I was always squandering his money.

Right then, a slender, manicured hand slipped into the frame.

"Julian, is your wifey checking up on you again?"

The voice was sickeningly sweet.

I recognized her immediately.

Chloe.

The new receptionist at his firm.

The woman wrapped in his arms in that Instagram story was her.

She wore a silk slip dress, and draped around her neck was that fifteen-thousand-dollar diamond necklace.

A sharp, searing pain tore through my chest.

Chloe glanced at me through the screen, suddenly covering her mouth with a soft giggle.

"Sweetie, don't take this the wrong way, but men carry so much stress at work."

"If you keep crying and throwing hysterics over every little thing, you'll just push him away."