Chapter 3

Chapter 3



Before we walked down the aisle, Clyde and I had a prenup. He wanted a partner, and I was more interested in financial security. Each month, Clyde would transfer $200,000 into my account, assuring me I could ask for more if necessary.

He often remarked that he knew my love for him was conditional on financial comforts. Otherwise, why would I have left him years ago for that wealthy heir from Silicon Valley, only to return after a two-year hiatus?-

Clyde remained clueless about the true identity of the "wealthy heir" everyone discussed until then, but he believed I was just another gold digger. Despite the monthly allowance, I rarely asked for money. Yet, even with $200,000 a month, I often scraped by. To prevent my cancer from returning, I relied on expensive medication and tests, which drained my finances.

Today marked only the second time I'd asked Clyde for money since my mother's funeral.

Back then, he didn't hesitate to hand over one million dollars.

But this time, he gently brushed Kayla's hair as if he hadn't heard my request, soothing her with tender words. After Kayla calmed down, he looked up at me with a cold smirk and said, "Want money? Fine, but first, apologize on your knees. You hurt Kayla. You owe her an apology!"

Faking surprise at first, Kayla quickly switched to a smug smile. She tugged at Clyde's sleeve, acting coy. "Oh, come on, Clyde, let it go. I'm not that hurt. Maybe Melanie didn't mean it."

"It doesn't matter. Melanie needs to apologize. You're my priority," Clyde said, placing Kayla gently on the couch before pulling out his checkbook and scribbling a figure. "Apologize, and this five million dollars is yours."

inviting women over to humiliate me, but that was always behind closed doors. In public, no

to degrade me, to make me bow my head. He knew I wouldn't ask unless it was necessary. He

everyone's eyes on me,

stared at me with defiance, reminding me of her earlier words, "The real homewrecker is someone who

actual pain I was in was blasting past the emotional mess I

thanks," I said, turning to leave the office

But it was about more than just my pride then. If he knew the

the brink of collapse. The pain

Remembering my mother's ste

to take some melatonin, hoping

to .Org

with a message from

surgery for the next Monday. Please come by to make the payment in

phone, no bank alerts or incoming funds. Closing my eyes, I

deposit to secure the surgery

planning to sell my designer bags the

out of sleep, I dreamt of a time when was the cherished daughter of the Crawford family, and Clyde was just an orphan boy. I had convinced my father to sponsor him through school despite him not meeting the financial aid

Clyde despite his coldness and

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