Chapter 2The Price of Your Devotion

When Ethan returned, his face was storm-cloud dark.

Yet he quickly smoothed his expression, poured a fresh glass of warm water, and walked over to me.

"Babe, feeling any better? You scared the hell out of me just now!" Ethan sat beside me, draping an arm around my shoulders.

If I hadn't seen that text message with my own eyes, I would have fallen for his act all over again.

"A little better, just feeling really weak," I murmured, leaning weakly against his chest while choking back the urge to vomit.

"Ethan, I'm so sorry... I ruined your deal."

"It's fine. We can sell the house anytime," Ethan waved it off with fake generosity, though his eyes kept darting toward his phone on the table.

"It's just such a shame about Miller's offer. One hundred and eighty thousand, all cash upfront. Deals like that are practically impossible to find these days!"

One hundred and eighty thousand?

I sneered inwardly.

Even though this townhouse was an older build, it sat right in the heart of the downtown school district. Its true market value was at least three hundred thousand.

Was he in such a rush to cash out that he was willing to dump it for dirt cheap?

Or was that bald Miller just a planted buyer he hired, conspiring with him to swindle my inheritance away?

"Ethan, what about the GoFundMe donations?" I asked softly, testing the waters. "Didn't we raise sixty thousand? Can't we use that to book the specialist consultation first?"

Ethan's entire body stiffened.

"Uh... that money is still under review by the platform. Withdrawals don't clear that quickly."

His eyes shifted erratically, dodging my gaze.

"Besides, that fund is strictly reserved for the big medical procedures. I want to save every cent of it for your upcoming surgeries. We can front the initial consultation fees ourselves."

He was lying through his teeth!

That text explicitly asked if the donation money was enough to pick up the Porsche!

The cash had already landed in his bank account.

"I see..." I nodded with deliberate disappointment. "Then I guess we'll just have to wait and sign the contract tomorrow."

Hearing that, Ethan's eyes lit up with renewed excitement! "Exactly! First thing tomorrow morning, I'll have Miller come back! Don't worry, babe, I'll make sure he throws in an extra two grand!"

Watching his greedy excitement, the very last shred of warmth in my heart withered into dust.

This man wasn't my husband. He was a cold-blooded parasite waiting to bleed me dry!

At dinnertime, Ethan brought out a bowl of murky, pitch-black herbal tonic, just as he did every single night.

"Drink it while it's hot, babe. This is a special holistic formula prescribed by a top traditional doctor, made specifically for your internal balance."

I took the bowl. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that Ethan's own bowl contained nothing but plain broth and simple vegetables.

Over the past three years, Ethan had forced me to swallow every imaginable health tonic, yet he never touched a single drop himself, always claiming men didn't need hormonal regulating.

"Ethan, don't you want some?" I asked casually. "I heard this blend helps both men and women balance their systems."

Ethan waved his hand dismissively. "I don't need any of that stuff. My body is in peak shape! Besides, my brother's kid, Leo, will carry on our family name anyway, so I'm not stressing."

He said it so offhandedly, but my stomach clenched.

What did that mean?

Had Ethan decided long ago that he never wanted children with me?

Or...

A terrifying suspicion crossed my mind, but before I could piece it together, Ethan was already nagging me to drink the concoction.

Later that night, Ethan went into the bathroom to take a shower.

It was his ironclad routine: a half-hour shower, blaring music the entire time.

I quietly stepped over to the nightstand and picked up his phone.

The passcode was my birthday. In the past, I had found that terribly romantic.

Out of respect and trust, I had never once snooped through his private messages.

Now I saw it for what it truly was—a calculated move to keep me oblivious and docile.

I unlocked the screen and opened SnapChat.

Pinned right at the top of his messages was a profile picture of an influencer-faced blonde in a skimpy tank top. Her display name was: "Forever Yours, Chloe."

Opening the chat log, a stench of pure betrayal hit me square in the face.