Chapter 1"I'm sorry, ma'am, but this card was declined due to insufficient funds."
I froze for a heartbeat before swiping a different one.
Red light flashed again.
"I'm so sorry, but this card's been deactivated as well."
"Wait... what?"
I steadied my breathing and hit my husband's speed dial.
"Hey, did your paycheck clear yet? We're down to the last scoop of formula."
The voice on the other end was stone-cold.
"A home isn't a one-man show, Rosalind. Try learning some independence instead of acting like a useless parasite."
With one sentence, he officially declared war.
Fine.
Hunting season starts now. Let's PLAY.
---
"Ma'am? Are you taking the formula or what?"
The cashier's tone was dripping with impatience.
I snapped back to reality and realized the line behind me was stretching halfway across the store.
"I'm sorry... I'll pass for now."
I pushed the empty cart out of the supermarket and called my mother-in-law.
It rang a dozen times before she finally picked up. In the background, I could hear the aggressive clacking of poker chips.
"Make it quick! I'm on a winning streak here!"
I took a deep breath. Every word felt like swallowing broken glass.
"Mom, Silas's company... his paycheck is late. Could you watch the baby for a few days so I can pick up some part-time shifts?"
"Not a chance!"
She cut me off before I could even finish the sentence.
"I did my time raising Silas! Don't come at me with that guilt-trip bullshit. If you're broke, go beg your own parents. They kept that six-figure dowry, didn't they? Tell them to cough it up and give it back to me!"
The line went dead.
A sharp sting of pure bitterness rose in my throat.
When exactly did they turn into monsters?
Probably a year ago, when my daughter ended up in the ICU.
I'd poured every cent of my dowry and wedding gifts—even my pre-marital savings—into her treatment.
Silas was away on a business trip at the time.
He made a solemn promise over the phone.
"Babe, my cash is tied up in high-yield investments. Cover it for now, and I promise to pay you back the second they mature."
From that day on, the way my mother-in-law looked at my daughter turned to pure loathing.
"Some kids are just born to bleed you dry," she would mutter. "She's a curse, brought here just to ruin this family."
And Silas started gaslighting me constantly.
"My uncle's firm is restructuring. I kept my job, but the economy is trash. My salary just got nuked."
"You don't work, so you have zero clue how brutal the real world is. Have your parents sub us for a bit. Once the business stabilizes, I'll make it up to you tenfold."
I waited for a year.
I waited while his "startup" became a black hole of debt.
I watched his paycheck shrink from $20,000 to a measly $5,000.
I watched as he stopped calling us family and started calling us "useless parasites."
Finally, I called my younger brother.
He listened to the nightmare and let out a long, heavy sigh.
"Rosalind, honestly, it kills me to see you living like a beggar. Take this five grand. Don't even think about paying it back."
"But I really hope this is the last time. You need to crawl out of that hole yourself, Rosalind."
The moment I hung up, the dam finally broke.
I learned that when you hit rock bottom, even your own shadow bails on you.
The same people who threw the confetti and pressured me to breed were now standing around the pit, mocking my desperation.
Their scripts were always so damn polished.
"You need to give them a son to secure your seat at the table."
"He's out there grinding, how are you so incompetent that you can't even handle one kid?"
"A woman needs to be forgiving, or how else are you going to keep your man from straying?"
I wiped the tears away and picked up my daughter, who had cried herself into exhaustion.
I finally realized: those three words, "I'll support you," are the biggest scam in history.
Chapter 2
"Rosalind, have you considered... that Silas might be screwing someone else?"
My best friend Rain's voice was hesitant.
My breath hitched.
"Cheating? Then why hasn't some girl shown up to make a scene? And why hasn't he asked for a divorce?"
"Heh..."
A bitter chuckle came through the receiver.
"You've watched way too many soap operas. In the real world, the husband, the mistress, and even that snake of a mother-in-law will coordinate to play the wife. You think they're just going to hand you the smoking gun? This isn't TV."
She paused, getting serious.
"Don't be mad at me for being blunt—it's just what I see at the firm every day. Look at the facts: One, how long has it been since he cut off your allowance? Two, can you even unlock his phone? Three, the baby is almost two, custody won't automatically lean toward the mother anymore. You're running out of time."
"Then what do I do?"
My voice was tight with anxiety.
"Should I hire... a private investigator?"
"A PI?"
Rain sighed again.
"Do you have the cash? A legit PI who actually gets results starts at six figures, and it's a bottomless pit of expenses. Plus, if they get evidence illegally, it's dead on arrival in court. Silas could end up suing you."
A chill ran down my spine, cold as ice.
"Then... what are my options?"
"How much cash do you have liquid right now?"
"$4,750. I just bought a fresh can of formula."
"Good. From this second on, don't spend a single cent. That's your war chest. I'm going to introduce you to my senior colleague. I'll help you with the bills, but leave the legal warfare to him."
Rain was the only person I trusted with my life.
After college, she went for her JD, while I went for a wedding ring.
Five years later.
She was at a powerhouse law firm, sharp and thriving.
And I, buried under mountains of laundry, had become a "parasite."
Half an hour later, an unknown number flashed on my screen.
"Hello, Ms. Wilson. This is Orion Lewis. Time is money, so let's get to it. At this stage, your only job is intel gathering."
"When your husband gets home, you need to do two things: First, photograph every single card in his wallet. Credit, loyalty, even a car wash card—front and back, high-res. Second, look for a burner phone or hidden messaging apps."
"No matter how much you find out he's squandered, you stay stone-faced. Don't snap until we have the complete evidence chain."
After hanging up, I sat in the dark for a long time.
Until now, a part of me wanted to stay blind.
His pay stub clearly said $5,000, and $3,800 of that was eaten by the mortgage.
He was living on peanuts—how could he possibly be hiding a fortune?
Three days later, the bastard finally showed his face.
Chapter 3
He tossed his suitcase aside like it was a piece of trash.
"Pack some summer gear. I'm back on the road next week."
I caught a whiff of a scent that didn't belong to him—something floral and expensive. I looked him dead in the eye, my voice steady.
"Your paycheck... still nothing?"
His hand froze on his tie. He shot me a look of pure irritation.
"Are you for real? I just walked through the door. I haven't even caught my breath and all you can talk about is damn money?"
The disgust on his face was a slap. A thousand accusations burned at the back of my throat, ready to scream.
Then, Mr. Lewis's voice echoed in my mind: "Stay stone-faced until the evidence is ironclad."
I watched him reach for his jacket again, ready to bolt.
I turned back to the kitchen and brought out a bowl of hot rib soup.
"Dinner's on the table. Hungry?"
His Adam's apple bobbed. The smell of the food won out. He hung the jacket back up.
"Look, I told you—have the parents cover the bills for now. Once my cash flow stabilizes, I'll pay them back every cent."
"Got it."
I lowered my gaze and scooped a bowl for myself.
"I won't bother you about the baby anymore."
That was exactly what he wanted to hear. He picked up his fork and claimed the biggest rib as his prize.
From this second on, I was playing for keeps.
The target: the man I'd shared a bed with for eighteen hundred nights.
Rain's gut feeling was dead on.
Silas was a professional. His defensive play was leagues beyond anything I expected.
He'd changed his passcode. I had to wait until he was dead to the world to gently press his thumb against the sensor.
His messages? Wiped.
Contacts? Clean.
Bank history? A total blank slate.
I tried every amateur sleuth trick in the book.
Delivery history, hotel apps, synced devices... nothing. He was a ghost in his own phone.
I leaned against the wall, watching the man I thought I knew sleep peacefully.
Our daughter was two.
He had slowly bled our life dry. Every asset had been "reinvested," "cut," or "repaid" into oblivion.
My dowry, my savings, my security—he'd squeezed it all out of me.
Five years.
Over eighteen hundred days of lies.
What else is there left to take, Silas?
"Did you get the shots?"
A text from Mr. Lewis lit up my screen at dawn.
"I got them. But his wallet is a wasteland. No ID, no bank cards. He's hiding everything. Can we even get a discovery order like this?"
His reply was instant.
"Forget the discovery order. That's stage two. Tell me exactly what was in that wallet."
I hit send on the photos.
A gas card. A grocery card. A few high-end bakery vouchers. One credit card. That was it.
Looking at those empty slots, I felt the walls closing in again.
"Is it over for me?"
His reply came back before I could even lock my phone.
No text. Just a wide-grinning emoji.
Then:
"Checkmate. I've got this won. But listen closely: you need to lure him back home one more time this week. Whatever it takes."
"What? Why wouldn't he come back?"
"High probability. Your daughter's birthday is in forty-eight hours. If I'm reading this right, your next gift will be a manila envelope full of divorce papers."
"Divorce?"
"He didn't come home to see you, Rosalind. He came to scavenge. Check the safe. The house deed, the titles—they're already gone."
My heart hammered as I scrambled to the safe and punched in the code.
Empty.
Every shred of legal leverage I had was gone.
"Okay."
The lawyer's voice on the next call snapped me back to the present.
"Now, do exactly as I say. Go to those stores. Buy exact duplicates of every card in those photos."
I didn't ask questions. I drove to the gas station.
One $1,000 gas card.
One $2,000 mall voucher.
The $300 bakery card.
As my balance plummeted, my hands began to shake.
I sucked in a breath and dialed the man who was currently robbing me.
"Honey, it's the baby's birthday tomorrow. I was thinking... maybe a family dinner?"
The silence on the other end lasted forever.
"Don't bother, Rosalind."
His voice was chillingly flat.
"I want a divorce."
