Chapter 1

After we get married, my husband places his assistant, Penelope Sanders, in complete control of our household finances.

Whether I need money for groceries or a new car, every expense has to go through her entire review and approval process before she releases the money.

Then, my mother-in-law, Margery Torres, is injured in a car crash and desperately needs 300,000 dollars for emergency surgery.

When I can't reach my husband, I have no choice but to ask Penelope for access to our funds.

However, she calmly paints her nails as she says, "You want the money? Fine, but you'll have to follow procedure. Submit a written request, and I'll review it."

I've heard plenty about Penelope. She barely does any work at the office and spends most of her time making everyone else's job harder.

However, Margery is waiting for the surgery that could save her life, so I immediately draft the request, while repeatedly emphasizing that it's a life-or-death emergency and that every minute matters.

Penelope rejects it without even glancing at the page.

"How do you expect me to approve 300,000 dollars based on this flimsy request? Who are you trying to fool? You're asking for 300,000 dollars, not 30 dollars. Denied."

My voice trembles with desperation.

"Ms. Sanders, the request clearly states that the money is for emergency surgery. Please make an exception!"

Even so, Penelope remains completely unbothered as she slowly brushes glitter over her nails.

"Rules are rules. Requests for major expenses must be at least two thousand words. Don't come back until you've written enough. If you want to save her life, write a request that actually meets the requirements."

Chapter 1

I was just about to snap back when another urgent payment notification from the hospital flashed across my phone screen.

Thus, I swallowed my words and started drafting the paperwork all over again.

All of a sudden, Penelope Sanders swept the papers off the desk and sent them scattering across the floor.

"Mr. Kane had this entire workstation custom-designed just for me," she said. "You don't get to use it. If you want to keep writing, do it on the floor. Otherwise, you can leave."

I froze in place, a suffocating weight pressing down on my chest.

Out in the hallway, employees slowed their pace, lingering near the open door to peek inside. I clenched the code status document in my hand so tightly that my nails dug deep into my palm.

Memories of how wonderfully my mother-in-law, Margery Torres, had always treated me flashed through my mind. If I delayed any longer, she wouldn't make it out of that hospital alive.

Biting my lip, I crouched down and dropped straight onto my knees, frantically drafting the second version of the expense application on the floor.

People kept passing by the office door, their judgmental stares cutting through me while their hushed whispers drifted into the room.

"Isn't that Mrs. Kane? Why is she on the floor writing?"

"Ms. Sanders must be messing with her. Still, she is Mrs. Kane. How can she let herself be treated like that?"

Suppressing the ache in my heart, I kept my head down until I finished scribbling the very last line.

I double-checked the page twice to ensure it met her ridiculous word-count requirement before rushing over to Penelope's desk to hand it over.

Penelope finally put down her nail buffer, but she made no move to actually take the paper from me.

Instead, she turned to a nearby coworker and scoffed, "Housewives don't know how to do anything but beg for handouts. They have zero professional etiquette."

I pushed the paper right in front of her face. "Ms. Sanders, please approve this immediately!"

With a subtle flick of her wrist, she sent her full cup of coffee splashing across the desk, the dark liquid drenching my application.

My eyes went wide. I snatched the papers back and desperately used my own clothes to blot out the stains.

Penelope slid her chair back, her face completely devoid of remorse. "Look at you. You haven't even said hello since you walked in. I was in the middle of talking to someone when you burst in, and you startled me."

The anger I had been suppressing finally boiled over.

"I asked for your help the second I walked in. Mom is at the hospital waiting for surgery, so I don't have time for small talk!"

Penelope let out a cold laugh, pulling out a tissue to dab at the spilled coffee on her desk with agonizing slowness.

"No matter how urgent it is, you don't break company rules. This is an office, not your living room. Next time, remember to knock and show some respect. Keep your attitude in check, or I won't sign off on a single page, no matter how many times you rewrite it."

My knees were still throbbing with pain from kneeling on the hard floor.

Looking down at the ruined application, I could barely hold back my rage. But an hour and a half had already slipped away, and if this dragged on any longer, Margery would lose her only chance at survival.

Forcing my anger down, I knelt on the floor once more to write a third version.

This time, I made sure to knock loudly and greet her politely before stepping inside.

Penelope was leaning toward a small mirror, carefully applying false eyelashes. Hearing my voice, she didn't even blink, completely ignoring me as I stood by the door.

I waited in absolute silence, not daring to utter a single word to rush her, terrified she would find another excuse to torment me.

Every second of that 20-minute wait felt like a lifetime.

She leisurely adjusted the final lash before casually turning her head toward me. "Oh, are you done?"

She arched an eyebrow, feigning surprise. "If you're done, why didn't you bring it in? Instead, you're standing out there like a statue. You're making it look like I'm deliberately keeping you waiting."

She leaned back against her chair. "Bring it here."

Relief washed over me, and I quickly strode toward her desk. "Ms. Sanders, I've rewritten the application. Please review it and authorize the transfer as soon as you can."

"Yeah, yeah. I heard you."

She waved me off impatiently. "You've been nothing but trouble all day."

Penelope finally looked down, her eyes scanning the densely packed handwriting on the page.

Yet, she read with excruciating slowness, tracking line by line as if she were auditing a multi-million dollar contract.

Another ten minutes passed.

Finally, she set the papers down and reached for her phone.

Chapter 2

My throat tightened, and I almost thanked her.

But a split second later, everything changed.

She picked up the application again, dug her fingers into the paper, and ripped it to shreds right in front of my eyes. The torn pieces fluttered through the air, scattering all over the office floor.

My stomach dropped, and the blood ran cold in my veins.

"What are you doing?" I gasped.

Penelope toyed with the scrap of paper left in her hand, looking at me with contempt.

"You actually had the nerve to submit something of this caliber for my approval? Did you seriously not notice the typo here? If you can't be bothered to proofread a basic request, then clearly saving your mother isn't that important to you.

"You're just using a sick old woman as a convenient excuse to scam money out of Mr. Kane. It's pathetic what gold-digging housewives will resort to when they want a handout."

Hearing her say that made the rage I had been fighting so hard to suppress boil over yet again.

Even so, I forced myself to tamp it down, desperately trying to appeal to whatever humanity she had left. "Ms. Sanders, put yourself in my shoes for a second. If it were your mother who got hit by a car today—"

"Shut your mouth!" she spat, her eyes darting to me with fury.

"I have no idea how a vile woman like you managed to trick Mr. Kane into marrying you, but I'm just doing my job, and you dare to sit there and wish death on my mother? Well, guess what? Now I'm absolutely not approving this. Let's see whose mother dies first!"

A kind-hearted intern standing nearby finally reached her limit and tried to intervene, her voice dropping to a cautious whisper.

"Ms. Sanders, her mother's literally in critical condition. Maybe we could let it slide just this once? It's only a single typo. She can just cross it out and fix it. This can't wait—"

Penelope's expression darkened instantly, and she whipped her head around to glare at her.

"Who permitted you to speak? You're a low-level intern who hasn't even passed probation, and you think you can stick your nose into my business?" Penelope snapped, pointing a manicured finger at the door. "Don't bother coming in tomorrow. Go straight to HR right now and pack your bags."

The intern's eyes welled with tears, and she stood there utterly paralyzed, not knowing what to do.

I couldn't take it anymore. Stepping forward, I physically shielded her behind my back.

"What gives you the right to fire her? This isn't your company, and you don't get to do whatever you want just because no one's stopping you," I said.

"This is your final warning. Process that transfer right now. If anything happens to Mom because of your petty games, you won't be able to get away with it."

Penelope let out a sharp, mocking laugh as she gave me a once-over.

"Look at you, a dependent, stay-at-home housewife who thinks she can play savior for the staff. Let's be clear, even if your mother kicks the bucket, it's just her bad luck catching up to her. It has absolutely nothing to do with me. You're not getting a single dime, so get the hell out of my office!"

Penelope meant every word. Without missing a beat, she grabbed her internal phone to call security and have me thrown out of the building.

Blood rushed straight to my head, and the anger I had spent the last two hours bottling up completely exploded.

I balled my hands into tight fists, staring her down without flinching. "Penelope Sanders! If Tristan finds out his own mother missed her chance at surgery because you intentionally blocked the funds, he'll never let this go!"

Penelope crossed her legs, leaning back with complete indifference. "Wow, are you trying to intimidate me with Mr. Kane?

"Mr. Kane put me in full control of the corporate accounts. If I don't sign off on it, you're not touching a single penny. If you think you're so tough, go ahead and get him to tell me himself. The second he tells me to release the money, I'll do it."

Before coming here, I had called Tristan 99 times, yet every single call went straight to voicemail. By the time I actually tracked him down, Margery might already be gone.

Just as I reached into my bag to pull out my phone and call the police, a pair of heavy, measured footsteps echoed from the hallway.

The moment Penelope heard the sound, the cruel, vicious smirk vanished from her face.

She stood up instantly, morphing into a picture of gentle, sweet innocence.

I whipped around toward the door.

Standing at the doorway was my husband, Tristan Kane, who had been completely unreachable all afternoon. He stood there with his brow furrowed, taking in the chaotic scene.

The moment I saw him, a massive weight lifted off my chest, and the tears I had been fighting back finally spilled over.

There was hope for Margery.

Chapter 3

I rushed over to Tristan and laid everything out.

"Tristan, thank God you're here. Mom was in a car accident, and she needs 300,000 dollars for emergency surgery.

"I've been going back and forth with Penelope for two hours and have rewritten the request three times, but she still refuses to release the money. We don't have much time left. Tell her to transfer it now, then come with me to the hospital so we can save Mom!"

Penelope wasted no time rushing to Tristan's side.

Her eyes welled with tears, looking as though she were the victim.

"Mr. Kane, I'm so glad you're back. I've been put in an impossible position," she whimpered. "Mrs. Kane burst in here demanding 300,000 dollars, completely ignoring the protocols you put in place. On top of that, she stopped me from taking disciplinary action against an insubordinate intern.

"I was only doing what you told me to do, yet she turned around and pinned the blame on me. Maybe you should just stop letting me manage the accounts, so I don't have to deal with this abuse!"

Tristan glanced at the shredded paper littering the office floor, his frown deepening.

He turned to soothe Penelope first, his voice dropping to a gentle murmur. "Alright, I understand. You've had a rough time today. I'll make it up to you later."

Then, he turned his gaze to me, his face tight with irritation.

"Astrid Tatum, are you done causing a scene?"

My tears stopped instantly.

I couldn't believe what I'd heard.

For the sake of his mother, I had cast aside every shred of my dignity and let his assistant walk all over me. Yet, the very first thing he did upon finding out was accuse me of throwing a tantrum.

When I didn't respond, Tristan stared down at me as if I were losing my mind.

"The entire reason I put Penny in charge of our household finances in the first place was that you're useless at budgeting," he scoffed.

"Now someone's managing our money responsibly, and instead of being grateful, you come into the office and create a massive scene. Do you have any idea how bad this looks?"

I froze, feeling as though a bucket of ice water had been dumped over my head.

But a glance at the clock showed we had less than 30 minutes left.

Tamping down the storm of emotions raging inside me, I yelled, "This isn't about who manages the money! Mom is waiting for her surgery. If we keep wasting time, she's going to die!"

Tristan dismissed me with a wave of his hand, letting out a frustrated sigh. "No matter how urgent it is, you still have to fill out the proper application form. Stop making a scene and turning us into a laughingstock."

Penelope leaned against his arm, throwing a smug, triumphant glance my way.

I bit my lower lip hard, my fingernails sinking deep into my palm.

There were so many things I wanted to say, but the thought of Margery fighting for her life in the hospital made me force every single retort back down my throat.

Picking up a fresh sheet of paper, I sat down to draft the application form for the fourth time.

This time, I weighed every single word, terrified of making a single typo that would fail Penelope's arbitrary standards.

After filling the entire page, I handed it over to her once more.

"Ms. Sanders, I've written this one out in extreme detail, and I'm sure there are no typos. Please review it and authorize the transfer."

Penelope leisurely picked up the sheet, casually scanning just the first two lines.

I held my breath, waiting for her approval. As long as she sent the money right now, I could get into my car and race to the hospital. There was still time to make it.

Instead, she tossed the paper right back onto the desk and said, "The justification is insufficient, and the information is incomplete. I can't approve this."

I stiffened, certain I must've heard wrong.

"I wrote down everything there is to write! What more do you possibly want? If you keep stalling, she's not going to make it!"

Penelope tapped the sheet with a glitter-coated fingernail.

"The approval process is at my discretion, and it's not good enough. If you want the funds, you need to add more details. If you don't write down exactly what I want to see, you're not getting a single dime."

I turned to Tristan, desperately hoping he would speak up and be reasonable.

Instead, he merely offered a cold, indifferent glance. "Penelope knows what she's doing with the company funds. Just listen to her and fix it."

At that moment, whatever hope I'd still had in him disappeared completely.

Chapter 4

Just then, my phone vibrated erratically.

I glanced down at the screen, which was now filled with a barrage of increasingly urgent collection notices from the hospital.

"Please submit the 300,000-dollar surgical deposit immediately. Failure to pay within the time limit will result in the cancellation of the surgery."

"The patient has ongoing internal bleeding. Any further delay may result in death. Please process the payment now."

Each message felt like a physical blow.

Images of how wonderfully Margery had always treated me flooded my mind.

Whenever I was sick and lost my appetite, she'd find countless new recipes just to cook something I could eat. Every single time Tristan and I got into an argument, she always took my side to help us reconcile.

Such a kind, wonderful woman was lying in an emergency room waiting to die, and the person helping put her there was her own son.

Something inside me finally snapped.

To hell with their regulations, their forms, and their protocols. I didn't care about any of it anymore.

Penelope was looking down, casually scrolling through her phone.

Lunging forward, I reached out to rip the device right out of her hands. "Give me the phone! I'm transferring the money to the hospital myself!"

Penelope hadn't anticipated that I'd resort to physical action, and she instinctively jumped back.

The moment she recovered, her eyes flashed with malice, and she swung her arm, delivering a vicious slap across my face.

The sharp crack echoed through the silent office.

The right side of my face burned instantly, and a piercing ring filled my ears.

The force of the blow sent me staggering back, and tears immediately welled in my eyes.

Despite witnessing the assault, Tristan didn't offer a single word of comfort. Instead, he rushed forward and shoved me backward.

"Astrid, have you lost your mind?" he barked. "How dare you storm into the office demanding handouts and putting your hands on my secretary? You're absolutely hopeless!"

Clutching my burning cheek, I stared at him in utter disbelief as the tears began to stream down my face.

"Tristan, think about what you're doing! Mom is waiting for her surgery. How can you just stand by and watch her die because of a medical bill?"

He furrowed his brow, looking me up and down with disgust. "Unless you get down on your knees and beg Penny for forgiveness, you're not walking out of here with a single dime."

I stared at the man I had shared a bed with for three years.

At that moment, he felt like a stranger.

My cheek was still throbbing, but it was nothing compared to the agony ripping through my chest.

Penelope crossed her arms, a smug grin playing on her lips as she waited patiently to see what I'd do.

Outside the door, the hallway was packed with employees who held their breath, waiting for the climax of the spectacle.

I looked at the clock on the wall.

Less than ten minutes remained before the doctor's deadline. If I didn't get the money right now, Margery would be done for.

Slowly, I bent my knees and dropped to the floor right in front of Penelope, humblingly prostrating myself to everyone in the room.

Hushed whispers rippled across the room.

"She actually did it. She's willing to humiliate herself for money."

"I can't believe she's kneeling for 300,000 dollars. Stay-at-home wives really don't have a backbone, do they?"

Suddenly, a sharp cramp shot through my abdomen, feeling as though something were tearing inside me.

I knew what it was.

I'd only recently learned that I was less than three months pregnant. For Margery's sake, however, I gritted my teeth and forced myself not to make a sound.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Sanders," I whispered. "Is that enough?"

Penelope pulled a single bill from her wallet and casually tossed it onto the floor in front of me. "Take it. Consider it a tip for putting on such an entertaining show."

The words felt like a slap to the face.

Tristan stared at me, disdain flickering in his eyes. "At the end of the day, this is just proof that your mother failed to teach you any manners. Getting hit by a car is exactly what she deserves.

"Take the money and buy your mother a decent urn. Stop trying to shake us down and make a scene."

I froze on the spot, a chill running down my spine.

He'd assumed all along that it was my mother who was hospitalized.

That was the only reason he'd never cared, and the only reason he'd allowed Penelope to torment me and turn me into a laughingstock over and over again.

Suddenly, a wave of clarity washed over me.

"Tristan," I said. "You're going to regret this."

I stopped arguing, and I stopped crying. Wiping the tears from my face, I turned around and walked out of that suffocating office.

The second I stepped through the doorway, Tristan's phone, which he had only just powered back on, began to ring, the caller ID displaying an unknown number.

He picked it up without thinking.

Immediately, the frantic, distressed voice of a doctor blared through the receiver, loud enough for everyone in the office to hear.

"Mr. Kane, because your family failed to make the surgical deposit in time, your mother missed the window for emergency resuscitation. We did everything we could, but she passed away just moments ago."