Chapter 1

The third time I received my $800 living allowance, the nanny threw down her apron and quit too.

She was still cursing on her way out.

"The richer they are, the cheaper they get. What's $800 supposed to buy? If you can't afford it, don't hire a nanny."

I held my newborn and let the tears roll down in silence.

Back when we'd first married, Eugene Henson had practically begged to hand me a hundred grand a month, and even then he'd complained I spent too little.

Ever since his newly hired little secretary, Paulette Vance, took over the finances, my monthly allowance had dropped to $800.

Forget paying a nanny's wages. It wasn't even enough for the baby's formula.

Eugene had blown five million dollars on a single couture gown for his little secretary.

Meanwhile I sat here, unwashed and disheveled, clutching my baby and unable to scrape together a single decent meal.

At the end of my rope, I called Eugene's brother-in-arms.

"The baby's out of formula and won't stop crying, and I haven't eaten all day..."

The moment he heard my voice crack, Caleb Foster dropped everything and came over to help me with the baby.

That night, Eugene happened to walk in and catch his buddy cooking for me with the baby in his arms. His face went ashen, and he demanded an answer.

"What are you doing here?"

Caleb's face hardened right back at him.

"You won't take care of your own wife, and you've got the nerve to question me? Eight hundred bucks, is that supposed to cover anything?"

"You'd spend more than that on a pair of socks for your little secretary, wouldn't you?"

Eugene froze, then turned to me in disbelief.

"What do you mean, $800 a month? I send you eighty thousand!"

……

Everyone in the room went still.

It was the third day after the nanny left.

I'd already finished the last bag of instant ramen.

The baby's formula was down to the bottom of the can too.

After I mixed the last bottle, he still wasn't full, and he wailed at the top of his lungs.

Frantic, I bounced him and soothed him for what felt like forever.

"Don't cry, sweetheart. Mommy hasn't eaten all day either."

Out of options, I opened the fridge. All that was left were two cartons of expired milk and a limp bag of greens.

Three straight months of an $800 allowance had wiped the house clean.

I sighed and went to toss the greens in a pan.

But I hadn't expected the thin film of mold on top, crumbling apart at the slightest touch.

I paced the living room in circles with my screaming baby, his little face turning purple.

But the bottle didn't have a single drop left.

I sank to the floor in despair, and the tears came whether I wanted them to or not.

Last month, at the community clinic for his vaccinations, the nurse said the baby was underweight and told me to feed him more.

I told the nurse he had a small appetite. But it was never a small appetite. There was simply nothing to feed him.

I couldn't even feed myself. What was I supposed to feed him with?

I drew a deep breath and swallowed my pride to call Eugene.

It rang a few times, and then his impatient voice came through.

"Didn't I tell you to schedule with my secretary before you call?"

"I'm swamped with work. This one call of yours could cost me millions."

He'd kept drilling it into me that he was too busy, that I had to book an appointment with his secretary before every call.

But the baby wouldn't stop crying, and I was past caring about any of that.

"Eugene, the baby's out of formula, and we haven't eaten all day..."

His tone shifted. "What's going on?"

"There isn't enough money..."

Before I could finish, Paulette's coquettish laugh drifted through the line.

"Mr. Henson, is your wife using the baby as an excuse to squeeze money out of you again?"

"See, I told you I was right. Sylvia Larson's nothing but a gold-digger. She thinks the allowance you give her is too little, so now she's escalating, using the baby as an excuse to milk you for more."

At that, Caleb's voice turned cold in an instant.

"Sylvia, I told you, using the baby as a pretext to cash in is beneath you."