FreeNovelChapter 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, assuringI 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 tI'd asked Clyde for money since my mother's funeral.
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇtBack 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 atwith 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, con, 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." I stared at the check, feeling momentarily relieved from the pain. Clyde had a history of inviting women over to humiliate me, but that was always behind closed doors. In public, no matter his antics, I was still Mrs. Patterson. This time, for Kayla, he was using money to degrade me, to makebow my head. He knew I wouldn't ask unless it was necessary. He wanted to crush my dignity to makedespise myself, and only then would he be satisfied.
Standing there, I could feel everyone's eyes on me, their disdain, suspicion, and pity.
Kayla stared atwith defiance, remindingof her earlier words, "The real homewrecker is someone who doesn't get any love!" Hand on my heart, the actual pain I was in was blasting past the emotional mess I was in.
"No thanks," I said, turning to leave the office and their judgmental stares behind me.
He wanted to tormentbecause he hated me. But it was about more than just my pride then. If he knew the money was for life-saving treatment and still refused, he'd probably feel vindicated.
Exhausted, I made my way home, my body on the brink of collapse. The pain from my cancer was relentless, a familiar enemy.
Remembering my mother's ste I forced myself to take smelatonin, hoping for even a moment's reprieve.
Follow on Novᴇl-Onlinᴇ.cᴏmto My phone buzzed with a message from the doctor.
[Ms. Crawford, we can schedule your surgery for the next Monday. Please cby to make the payment in the next few days.] I checked my phone, no bank alerts or incoming funds. Closing my eyes, I accepted the reality that Clyde wouldn't help.
Perhaps sensing my silence, the doctor sent another message, suggesting a deposit to secure the surgery date. I didn't respond. Without money, how could I proceed? Lying in bed, I tried to empty my mind, planning to sell my designer bags the following day if necessary. Right then, I needed rest to survive the operation.
In and out of sleep, I dreamt of a twhen 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 criteria.
Later, I pursued Clyde despite his coldness and repeated rejections.
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