Chapter 1

My husband could ignore me dying six feet behind him.

But when Vanessa Reed needed him, he heard her instantly.

Grant Prescott wore noise canceling headphones everywhere in our townhouse. He claimed his nerves could not tolerate the slightest sound. In reality, those headphones gave him the perfect excuse to shut me out.

"The hospital called about Evan's bill."

"The kitchen sink is leaking."

"Grant, please. I need help."

Nothing ever reached him.

Then one night, a violent stomach infection dropped me to the living room floor. I called his name until my voice gave out. For ten minutes, he sat on the couch with his back to me, music in his ears, while I curled around the pain.

He never turned around.

Later that night, Vanessa posted a story on Instagram.

"The second I need him, a certain someone takes off those headphones. I guess some people really do come first."

The photo showed Grant leaning toward her, his headphones resting around his neck. He was smiling in a way I had not seen in years.

I stared at the picture until something inside me went quiet.

I could have cried. I could have demanded an explanation. I could have begged him to remember that I was his wife.

Instead, I opened my banking app and sent him an invoice.

Then I walked into the living room and held the screen in front of his face.

"Companionship fee," I said. "Fifteen thousand dollars an hour."

Grant finally took off his headphones.

And for the first time in our marriage, I had his full attention.

"Pay up."

Grant stared at the invoice, his brows pulling together.

"What kind of stunt is this, Claire?"

He ripped off his headphones and tossed them onto the couch.

"Vanessa just moved back to New York. She hardly knows anyone here anymore. What is wrong with me looking out for her? Do you have to turn everything into some grubby little transaction?"

My face stayed blank.

"Pay me, or stop seeing her. Your choice."

He gave a humorless laugh, pulled out his phone, and opened his private banking app.

My phone chimed. The wire had cleared. Fifteen thousand dollars.

"There. And do not use your money grubbing standards to judge what Vanessa and I have. There is nothing improper between us."

I checked the extra fifteen thousand in my account and went straight to my room.

Nothing improper?

I did not care.

My younger brother, Evan Morgan, was lying in intensive care. The ventilator, feeding solution, and private nursing care devoured money every day.

If Grant was willing to pay, I was willing to take it.

Thunder cracked after midnight. Rain hammered the windows.

Grant's phone rang. One glance at the screen and he threw back the covers, moving with sudden urgency.

"Where are you going?" I asked, propped against the headboard.

He pulled on his shirt. "Vanessa has been afraid of thunder since she was a child. She lives alone. I need to make sure she is okay. Go to sleep. Do not wait up."

I stopped him at the bedroom door.

"Emergency comfort call. Seventy five thousand dollars."

He froze, then turned to stare at me as if I had lost my mind.

"Are you really this obsessed with money? Someone is in distress, and you want to talk about fees?"

I raised my phone and sent him a payment request.

"Thunder will not kill her. But unless you pay, you are not walking out that door tonight."

His chest rose and fell as he glared at me. Then he clenched his jaw and approved the wire.

My phone chimed again. Seventy five thousand dollars.

"Satisfied? I do not even know who you are anymore."

He slammed the front door behind him.

I looked at my account balance and immediately wired all ninety thousand dollars to Mercy Medical Center.

That would cover another two weeks of Evan's treatment.

The next afternoon, Grant's assistant delivered a packet from his attorneys. Inside was a petition asking the hospital to withdraw life support.

Grant called moments later.

"Evan has been unresponsive for three months. Even the doctors say his chances of waking up are almost nonexistent. How long are you going to keep throwing money at a lost cause? Sign the papers. Let him go with some dignity."

My fingers tightened around the pen until my knuckles went white.

"Evan is my only brother. As long as he is breathing, no one is pulling that plug."

Vanessa's soft, flirtatious voice drifted through the phone.

"Grant, what do you think of this tie clip?"

His tone turned warm at once. "It looks great. Everything you choose does."

Then he covered the receiver, and the ice returned to his voice.

"I do not care whether you sign it. Starting today, I am not paying another cent toward Evan's care. Figure it out yourself."

The call ended.

I tore the authorization into pieces and dropped them in the trash.

He thought he could stop paying.

He was about to learn otherwise.