Chapter 2Penniless in a Penthouse: My Billionaire Husband's Three Million Dollar Lie

The only issue was that I was severely malnourished.

I hesitated for a long time before finally asking.

"Excuse me, how much does an abortion procedure cost?"

The doctor looked up in surprise. "An abortion? You're a married woman of a good age—does your husband agree to this?"

I lowered my head, unsure of how to answer.

He sighed, his tone filled with pity. "The total cost will be around fifteen hundred dollars."

I glanced at my phone. After putting the ultrasound fee on my credit card, I only had a fifty-dollar credit limit left.

Leaving the hospital, I took my ultrasound results and went straight to the Sterling Group headquarters.

I wanted to ask him face-to-face. After all, if I was going to keep the baby, the prenatal vitamins, follow-up exams, and hospital registration would be a massive expense.

Outside the CEO's office, Bella stepped in my way.

"Mr. Sterling is in a meeting. Do you have business here, Mrs. Sterling?"

I gripped the ultrasound printout, my tone practically begging. "I really am pregnant. If I'm going to keep the baby, I need money..."

Bella glanced at the paper quickly, then batted it right back at me.

"You really don't give up, do you, Mrs. Sterling? You even forged a fake ultrasound."

"What's next? Are you going to fake a miscarriage next month just to demand a medical payout?"

Hearing the commotion, several employees from the executive suite turned their heads.

"No way. Doesn't Mr. Sterling give his wife a massive allowance every month? Why is she faking a pregnancy for cash?"

"She really treats the CEO like a walking ATM."

With every whisper, my head sank lower.

Bella stepped around me and pressed the 'Down' button on the elevator.

"Mrs. Sterling, please do not disrupt our work environment. Please leave."

I shoved the ultrasound back into my purse and took the elevator down amidst the humiliating gossip.

Walking through the ground-floor lobby, I heard Bella on the phone, aggressively scolding the front desk.

"Never let a debt-collecting beggar like her into the building again!"

Hearing that, I could only quicken my pace and flee the company.

I touched my flat stomach, murmuring to myself, "Baby, what is Mommy supposed to do?"

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of the Hermès bag on my shoulder. An idea struck me.

I practically ran to the nearest luxury consignment boutique.

Seeing how desperate and frantic I was, the store owner knew I needed cash immediately. He only offered me twelve thousand dollars.

This was the birthday gift Carter had given me this year. It was a nationwide limited edition—something money usually couldn't even buy.

But I had no choice. I sold the bag.

Having lived in poverty for so long, the moment the funds hit my account, I finally felt a sense of security.

That night, the headline "Sterling Group CEO's Wife Pawns Second-Hand Designer Bags" shot to the top of Twitter.

The article featured a clear photo of me handing the bag over to the boutique owner.

The comments were wild—some said I was spending recklessly and selling bags to pay off debts, while others speculated our marriage was crumbling and I was liquidating assets to run away.

Very quickly, Carter called me.

His voice was suppressed with rage. "Are you really that desperate for money that you'd sell the birthday gift I gave you?"

"No wonder Secretary Vance said you came to the office with a fake ultrasound to demand a payout."

I wanted to explain.

But he didn't give me a single chance to speak.

"If you need money, you can just tell Secretary Vance. Why would you weave such a pathetic lie?"

His voice was laced with exhaustion, sounding profoundly disappointed.

The words I had prepared died in my throat. All I could say was, "I understand."

I hung up the phone. I hadn't even decided if I was keeping the baby yet.

Suddenly, a notification popped up. The $12,000 I just got from the bag, along with the money Mia had lent me, was completely transferred out of my account.

Bella sent me a text message: "Mr. Sterling said you spend recklessly without any restraint. This money has been transferred out, and I will be keeping it in a secure account on your behalf."

The very next day, every valuable item in the penthouse was moved out.

The genuine leather sofas, the smart appliances, even the potted plants on the balcony—everything was stripped bare.