Chapter 1

Julian Vance forced me to get on my knees and apologize to Lily Brooks for the ninth time, slapping a check right onto my face.

"One hundred thousand dollars for every time your knees hit the floor."

I calculated my mother’s remaining medical bills. With a blank face, I dropped to my knees and bowed my head to the floor, ten times.

The moment the check was in my hand, a robotic voice echoed in my head.

"Congratulations, Host. You have saved up the required amount. Do you wish to detach from this world?"

Feeling a sudden, overwhelming sense of relief, I slid onto the cold floor.

Seeing this, Julian sneered and tossed a black lace dress at me.

"Not enough?"

"Then do a striptease for us, wife. Fifty thousand dollars a minute."

The moment he said that, Lily, who was leaning against his shoulder, wiped her tears and smirked. The trust fund babies around them started cheering and tossing cash at me.

"New York’s ultimate gold digger, Hailey Miller, is selling her dignity again. Since Julian gave the word, I’ll book her for ten minutes!"

Looking at the fluttering bills around me, I let out a tragic laugh and took a step back.

Then, right before Julian's eyes—which suddenly filled with sheer panic—I took a leap and threw myself into the freezing East River.

This time, Julian, the gold digger Hailey doesn't want your money anymore.

When I opened my eyes, Julian was right beside my hospital bed, checking on me anxiously.

"You're awake? Are you hurting anywhere? Do you want me to call the doctor?"

At the same time, the System’s complaining voice echoed in my mind.

"Host, you were too reckless!"

"I only asked if you wanted to leave. I didn't say we could leave instantly. It takes seven days to detach your soul from this body."

Fine. Seven days.

It was enough time to say goodbye to the people who actually mattered to me in this world.

Julian reached out to hold my hand. The very next second, I pulled my hand away.

The air in the room instantly froze.

"Jumping into the river? You're getting bold, Hailey," he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

"I won't hold it against you this time. Take the card."

"Lily was terrified by your stunt last night. She’s also in the hospital, and I need to go be with her."

A sleek black card glistened on the white bedsheet.

I let out a weak, tired laugh.

Even when I had almost died right in front of him, he still thought all I wanted was his money.

When I first came to this world on this mission, it was to earn three million dollars to pay for my mother's life-saving surgery back home.

Actually, I had earned that money long before I married Julian.

I had the System send the money back to my world, and I chose to stay behind just to spend the rest of my life with him.

But on our wedding night, the System apologized and told me the exchange rate between the two worlds had suddenly shifted ten-to-one. I needed to raise thirty million dollars, or my mother would die immediately.

The next morning, Julian saw the paparazzi photos of me selling my wedding jewelry on the news.

His face was cold as ice.

"Julian, I can explain..."

"No need," he had interrupted coldly. "Since I married you, I'll accept whatever kind of trash you are."

He said it so casually, as if he didn't care at all.

And I had let out a sigh of relief, thinking he was being understanding.

It wasn't until he started bringing other women to our home that I realized what his "acceptance" actually meant.

Through the thin walls of the guest room, the loud, passionate noises of another woman would echo all night.

"Oh, Mr. Vance, you're so bad. Aren't you afraid your wife will be mad?"

Julian’s voice would sound completely indifferent.

"Mad? She's no different from you. What right does she have to be mad?"

"Actually, she's much worse than you. At least you don't pretend to be pure while scheming your way into the marriage."

I had leaned against the wall of my bedroom, crying silently through the night.

From that day on, Hailey Miller, the wife of Julian Vance, became notorious in high society.

They said Julian would give his wife one million dollars every time he brought a woman home.

I got fifty thousand dollars for setting out protection for them.

And thirty thousand dollars for personally holding an umbrella for his mistresses as they left our house.

Every single time, I shamelessly accepted the money. And every single time, Julian’s disgust for me grew deeper.

But I still held onto a foolish hope. I thought if he knew the truth, maybe he would believe me.

Until Lily Brooks showed up.

She was an Ivy League graduate from Columbia University, a self-proclaimed "idealist."

She hated Julian's habit of solving everything with money, and she openly mocked me for being a useless parasite.

Two days ago, on a yacht party, she accidentally stepped on and tore my dress. Then, she pulled a crumpled stack of ten-dollar bills from her cheap backpack and told me to count it.

I didn't want to. She immediately clenched her fists, tears streaming down her face in a display of stubborn pride.

"Mrs. Vance, what is this? Are you looking down on me?"

"I might not have money like you, but at least I have dignity."

Julian’s eyes had been filled with nothing but admiration for her.

To comfort her, he had forced me onto my knees on the yacht deck.

"Hailey, don't you love money more than anything?"

"Keep apologizing on your knees until Lily smiles. As long as she’s happy, I don't care how much it costs."

My gaze drifted back to the black card on the bed. With a blank expression, I tossed it back into his arms.

"No, thank you."