He Called Me a Gold Digger, Then Begged Me to Come Back

On the day of my wedding, my mother was diagnosed with lung cancer. She asked Ethan for five thousand dollars on the spot. From that day forward, Ethan was convinced I was a gold-digging fraud. After the wedding, every single expense I made had to be submitted to his assistant, Lily Carter, for approval. Groceries, utility bills, my mother's medication, even my own basic toiletries—all of it required a formal request form, and none of it moved forward until Lily gave the nod. She never did. I explained it more times than I could count. Cancer drugs were expensive. My mother had been pushed to the brink before she ever opened her mouth on our wedding day. Ethan just looked at me, cold as stone. "If you want money, just say so. As long as you can get it past Lily, I'll pay." Then my mother's condition turned critical. The hospital called and told me I had to pay fifty thousand dollars for emergency surgery, immediately. I didn't bother filling out another request form that would never be approved. I took Ethan's black card and charged fifty thousand dollars. That night, Ethan showed up with the police and accused me of grand theft. I tried to explain. But a loud crash came from inside the hospital room. A nurse rushed out, her face white as chalk, eyes rimmed red. "Ms. Reed, your mother said she didn't want to be a burden to you anymore." "She just... jumped from the upper floor." Ethan let out a cold laugh. "Emma, tell your mother to quit the act." "Return the money, and I won't press this any further. Fifteen days in holding, tops." I stared at the empty hospital bed, and suddenly I didn't even have the strength to stand. "Is fifteen days enough?" I looked up at him, my voice so quiet it was barely there. "Ethan, go ahead and press charges." "I'll gladly serve fifteen years." ... After fifteen days in a holding cell at the police station, Ethan posted my bail. He was standing at the station entrance with his arm around Lily's waist. "Don't play the martyr with your little jail stunt." "Emma, since you're so eager to go in, I'll make it happen." "The court date is in three days. All the evidence is right here." I took the file, numb. Page after page, densely packed. Lily had never approved a single one of my expense requests. So every charge on the black card—from a dollar or two for vegetables to hundreds and thousands for utilities, home maintenance, my mother's medication—expenses that were clearly household costs, all of it had been turned into evidence for Ethan to extend my sentence. But I had no fight left in me. I just nodded. "Fine." The female officer who'd been looking after me couldn't take it anymore. "Mr. Blake, you two are married." "Wasn't fifteen days enough? Ms. Reed only took that fifty thousand dollars to save her mother. Do you really have to drag this into court?" "Money lost can be earned back. A person lost is gone forever." Lily let out an exaggerated sigh. "Officer, you don't know the whole story." "When they got married, Emma's mother demanded an extra five thousand dollars from Ethan at the last minute. Refused to let the ceremony continue until he paid." "This whole family—when they can't scam money out of you, they steal it. The fact that Ethan is only pressing charges now is already him being generous for the sake of their marriage." The officer frowned, trying to say more. "But she already—" Ethan cut her off coldly. "A family of gold-digging frauds. They don't deserve your sympathy." He seized my wrist and dragged me out of the station by force. "Get in the car." "The divorce papers are already at home. The Blake family doesn't need a Mrs. Blake with a criminal record." I pressed my lips together and didn't resist. I walked around to the passenger side and had just pulled open the door when Lily shoved me aside and slid in first. She blinked, smiling with practiced innocence. "Sorry, Emma. I've always sat in Ethan's passenger seat. I'm just not comfortable anywhere else." I stumbled back a few steps and instinctively looked at Ethan. He curved his lips, watching me like I was some kind of joke. "Lily was right all along. Now that it's come to divorce, you can't keep up the act anymore." "The passenger seat is Lily's. You don't get to take it." "But if you beg me, I might consider pushing the divorce date back a little." I came to my senses and gently shook my head. "I'm not taking it." "Ethan, just give me five dollars. I'll take a cab. I won't trouble you." His expression went cold instantly. "A cab? Did you fill out a request form? Did Lily approve it? Without her sign-off, what are you going to pay with?" Before I could respond, he shoved me into the back seat without another word. The moment the car door shut, a wave of dizziness hit me. I realized the jasmine air freshener that had been in this car for five years was gone. In its place was something cloyingly sweet. The air conditioning was turned down low. Lily sneezed and whined in a baby voice. "Ethan, this is all her fault for holding the door open so long. All the cold air escaped." Ethan immediately draped a wool coat—already prepared—over her shoulders. "The heated seats are already on full. Stop fussing." He glanced at me in the rearview mirror. I was still wearing the short-sleeved shirt I'd had on fifteen days ago when they took me away. I was shaking from the cold. His finger hovered over the climate control screen for one second before he pulled it away. "Lily likes this temperature. You're not as sensitive to cold as she is, so I'm leaving it." A sharp, twisting pain tore through my lower abdomen. I clenched my teeth and nodded. Seven days ago, the station had arranged a routine medical check. The doctor told me I was three months pregnant. But I hadn't told Ethan. The car fell silent. Then, the next second, the hospital called again. "Mr. Blake, it's been fifteen days." "Ms. Reed's remains have exceeded the morgue's storage period. If no one claims the body by five o'clock this afternoon, we'll have no choice but to proceed with cremation per standard protocol." "The cremation cost will be covered by the hospital. If you confirm, you'll only need to pay fifty dollars for the urn." Ethan answered impatiently. "Confirmed." "I'm not paying. Scatter the ashes in the ocean and stop calling me." My heart slammed against my ribs. Before I could stop him, he'd already hung up. In his call history—fifteen missed calls. In his messages—over sixty notifications from the hospital asking him to confirm how to handle my mother's remains. Every single one read. Not a single reply. I finally broke. My eyes went completely red. "Stop the car." My voice was shaking. "I need to go get my mother."