Chapter 3

Lucas looked stunned that I had actually asked out loud. It was usually considered awkward for the bride to bring up money directly.

But I was out of patience.

Mrs. Adams glanced at me, her smile freezing. She rubbed her hands together nervously and looked at her husband.

Mr. Adams said nothing. He kept staring blankly at the TV.

Seeing their silence, I pressed on.

"Back where I'm from, the standard contribution is around $180,000. My parents won't keep any of it—they'll pass it all directly to me, and they'll match it with property."

"Besides, my parents already bought a condo under my name. If your family isn't planning on buying a marital home, we can just live in mine."

I didn't even mention that the car Lucas had driven today was also mine.

Mrs. Adams gave a strained chuckle. "Chloe, sweetie... our family isn't wealthy. So I was thinking... we could give you $2,880. It's a lucky number."

Two thousand, eight hundred and eighty dollars? That was completely different from what Lucas had promised me.

I turned to Lucas. "And what do you have to say?"

Lucas kept his head down, staying silent. A silent agreement.

Unbelievable. So this was their little game? The luxury gifts I brought to their house today cost more than that insult of a check, and she had the nerve to offer me $2,880 as a bridal settlement?

To convince me to buy expensive gifts for his parents, Lucas had sworn that they had saved up a massive wedding fund for him years ago.

And this was the grand reveal?

I stood up abruptly. I looked at the three of them—one staring blankly at the screen as if none of this concerned him, one hanging his head like a spineless coward, and one wearing a fake smile that didn't reach her eyes.

I walked to the entryway and picked up the most expensive gifts I had bought. Seeing this, Lucas panicked. "Chloe, what are you doing?"

I said coldly, "Since your parents haven't figured out their budget yet, let's talk after you've all reached an agreement."

Lucas jumped up to chase after me, but his mother grabbed his wrist and shot him a sharp look.

In the end, Lucas stayed put.

Sitting in my car, my chest ached with sharp, stabbing pains. I could barely breathe.

Lucas and I had been dating for a year and a half. This pregnancy was an accident.

Given my age, I hadn't wanted to casually terminate it. I thought we could meet the parents, settle the wedding arrangements, and if everything went smoothly, my parents wouldn't object.

Lucas had pounded his chest, promising he'd handle everything.

Yet the moment I set foot in his house, I was served garbage leftovers, followed by a pathetic $2,880 insult. Did I look like an easy mark?

I was providing the apartment and the car. Did they really think I was desperate for their crumbs?

Biting my lip, I drove back to the apartment Lucas and I rented. The truth was, I paid the rent for that place too. Lucas had claimed it was closer to his office and begged to move in.

After moving in, he never paid a single cent toward rent. Whenever I brought it up, he'd make up excuses, act cute, or push me down onto the sofa to distract me.

I must have been completely blinded by his handsome face to play sugar mommy to him for over a year.

After I got back, Lucas didn't call. He didn't even send a single text to soothe things over.

The last flicker of hope in my heart went completely cold.

I started packing up all of Lucas's belongings. As I sorted through his things, I realized that from his socks and underwear to his jackets and bags, almost everything he owned had been bought with my money.

And what had he ever bought me? A single DIY tote bag.

He got it on Amazon for $9.99 and scribbled some childish doodle on it himself.

It was so ugly that I had never once worn it out.

The more I packed, the angrier I became. Suddenly, a dull, agonizing cramp seized my abdomen. I collapsed onto the floor, clutching my stomach.

When the pain subsided slightly, I struggled to my feet, only to feel a warm flow between my legs.

Supporting myself against the wall, I limped to the bathroom. I pulled down my pants—there was blood everywhere.