Chapter 3

The next morning, everything of value in the penthouse was being hauled away.

The custom Italian leather sofa, the smart appliances, even the potted orchids on the balcony.

Bianca stood by the front door, ticking off items on a clipboard.

"Check every single room. Don't leave anything behind, or who knows if she'll sell the roof right over Mr. Cross's head."

I stood frozen in the hallway, powerless to stop them.

Once they left, I looked around the hollow, echoing apartment and let out a broken laugh.

A year ago, when Ethan brought me here, he had furnished every corner with his own hands.

Back then, he had just paid off my deadbeat father's gambling debts and saved me from a pack of loan sharks.

He had held my face and promised: "From now on, you're mine. You will never have to worry about money again."

His vow had felt so warm, so genuine. I believed him.

Now, I didn't know where it all went wrong.

My phone pinged with a local job alert.

A VIP lounge downtown was hiring night-shift servers at forty dollars an hour.

If I worked secretly for a month, I'd have enough for the prenatal treatments.

I went in for an interview. The manager liked my demeanor and hired me on the spot, telling me to start in three days.

Walking out of the lounge, I pulled out my phone to text Chloe.

Before I could type a single word, a wave of nausea hit me. The world spun, darkness rushed in, and I collapsed onto the pavement.

When I opened my eyes, the smell of antiseptic filled my lungs.

A nurse was adjusting an IV bag above my head.

"You're suffering from acute malnutrition. This is an IV drip to stabilize you," she said gently. "I've never seen an expectant mother faint from pure starvation. Where is your husband? How can anyone be this negligent?"

I gripped the rough hospital sheet, my voice flat. "I don't have a husband."

Her eyes filled with deep sympathy.

"The baby is innocent, sweetie. You can't starve yourself like this."

I gave a faint nod. I had thought that once I got pregnant, I would at least be able to eat three meals a day.

On the day I was discharged, I called Ethan three times. He rejected every single call.

Defeated, I had to borrow money from Chloe to settle the hospital bill.

She wired the money instantly.

"You passed out and Ethan still won't step up for you two? Does he want lightning to strike him dead?"

"I'm coming over there to tear him a new one!"

"Chloe, wait," I pleaded. "Let me handle this myself."

"I've made up my mind about the baby. I'll talk to him tonight."

To my surprise, when I unlocked the front door, Ethan was there.

Wearing an apron, he was carrying a dish out of the kitchen.

Seeing me return, he barely looked up.

"There wasn't a single scrap of food in this place. Is this how you usually live?"

Before he could finish, the heavy smell of frying oil hit my nose. My stomach churned, and I dashed into the bathroom, dry-heaving violently over the toilet.

Ethan followed, his brows furrowed.

"What's wrong with you? Why do you look so pale?"

He handed me a glass of water. "Since when did you become so delicate?"

I rinsed my mouth, trying to steady my breathing.

"Give me some money."

The room went dead silent. Then, Ethan let out a harsh scoff.

"So after all this drama, it's just about money?"

"Those three missed calls today... was that just for cash, too?"

I used the sink to pull myself up.

"Yes."

Ethan stared at me, his eyes chillingly cold.

"You really never change. You'd do anything for a buck, wouldn't you?"

He grabbed his leather jacket from the rack and headed for the door. Right before stepping out, he paused.

"I'll have Bianca transfer you some."

The door slammed shut behind him with a deafening bang.

I don't know how long I stood there before I managed to drag myself to the dining table.

There was a plate of BBQ ribs, my favorite.

Now, just looking at it made me want to vomit.

The next morning, I got a message from Bianca.

"Natalie, don't get greedy. Constantly begging like this will only make Mr. Cross despise you."

"Mr. Cross stated that if you ask for money one more time, your allowance next month will be cut in half."

A notification followed: You received $20.00.

I stared at the screen for a long, quiet moment, then hit accept.

At least I could buy breakfast.

This marriage, where I had to beg like a dog just to keep from starving, was suffocating the life out of me.

After staring at the empty wall for an hour, I finally sent Ethan a text:

Since you can't afford to keep me, let's get a divorce.