Chapter 4

Ethan crumpled the receipt into a ball and shoved it into his pocket along with the card.

“This was for networking! A client’s daughter wanted to go to Disney. What’s wrong with me tagging along? It’s for work!”

I stared at him.

“Ethan, did you really need to 'network' on Leo’s birthday? You know exactly what you did!”

“So what? If I don’t work, where does the money for this house come from? Who pays the mortgage?”

He yelled back defensively, his voice booming.

“You think I want to work overtime? I’m doing all of this for you and our son!”

From the living room, Leo began to cough violently.

I ignored Ethan, pushed past him, and ran out of the study.

Leo’s face was flushed red with fever. He was curled up on the couch, gasping for air.

“Mommy... it hurts...”

He clutched the edge of my shirt, his knuckles turning white.

I scooped him up.

“Let’s go. We’re going to the hospital.”

Ethan followed us out.

“The hospital? At this hour? Do you know how expensive emergency room copays are?”

“We have ginger in the kitchen. I’ll make him some tea to sweat it out.”

“Hospitals are just scams anyway. They charge hundreds of dollars for a minor cold.”

As I slipped Leo’s shoes on, I pressed my cheek against his burning forehead. “He has a high fever. We are going.”

Ethan blocked the front door.

“Claire, stop wasting money! A fever won't kill him.”

“When I was a kid, I had a 104-degree fever. My mom just wrapped me in blankets, and I woke up fine the next morning.”

“Get out of my way.”

My voice was ice-cold as I glared at him.

Ethan flinched at my expression.

He reluctantly stepped aside, muttering under his breath:

“Fine, go. Waste your money. You’re spoiling him. Can’t even handle a tiny cold.”

He didn't put on his shoes, nor did he grab the car keys.

Obviously, he had no intention of coming with us.

I hadn't expected him to anyway.

Carrying my fifty-pound son, I ran down the stairs and tried to hail a cab.

It was pouring, and there were no Ubers nearby.

I stood by the curb for twenty minutes, getting completely soaked.

Leo kept crying out for his dad in his feverish delirium.

My tears mixed with the rain, tasting salty on my lips.

At the hospital, we went through emergency registration and blood tests.

The doctor diagnosed him with acute pneumonia. He needed an IV drip immediately.

I ran up and down the hospital corridors alone, paying fees and collecting medicine.

When the nurse inserted the IV needle, Leo cried out, begging for his dad.

The nurse looked at me, standing there alone, and asked, “Where is his father?”

I shook my head.

“He’s dead.”

By the time the IV finished, it was 3:00 AM.

Leo's fever had finally gone down, and he fell asleep on the observation bed.

As I sat beside him, my phone buzzed.

It was a bank notification.

[Your account ending in 4012 completed a transaction of $800.00 at 03:15 AM at Ivy Private Pediatric Clinic.]

That card was under my name, but Ethan had it linked to his Apple Pay.

That was the money I had been saving for Leo’s college fund.

I immediately called Ethan.

It rang for a long time before he finally answered.

Ethan’s voice was hushed, and the background was dead quiet, like he was in a private hallway.

“Hello? What do you want in the middle of the night?”

“Where are you?”

“In bed, sleeping.”

“Then explain to me why $800 was just charged to my card.”

Silence stretched on the other end for a few seconds.

“Oh, that... I bought health insurance for Leo online.”

“You know how expensive pediatric visits are. Better safe than sorry.”

“You bought insurance from a luxury private pediatric clinic at three in the morning?”

Ethan snapped.

“Ugh, you are so annoying! Chloe’s kid got sick and she’s at this clinic. She didn’t have enough cash, so she borrowed it from me!”

“She’ll pay me back tomorrow. Why do you have to be so incredibly petty?”

*Click.*

He hung up.

I watched the screen of my phone fade to black.

*Borrow?*

Chloe didn't even have a job. How was she going to pay it back?

For the last three years, any money "borrowed" by her had never been seen again.

Using my burner account, I opened Ethan’s Instagram.

Just five minutes ago, he had posted a story set to "Close Friends" only.

The photo showed a tiny hand with an IV drip, set against the backdrop of a luxurious private hospital room.

The caption read: *[My heart breaks for my baby girl. Daddy will always protect you.]*

In the comment section, Chloe had replied: *[Thank you, Daddy. We love you.]*

Ethan replied: *[Always.]*

I tapped the picture and zoomed in.

On the bedside table sat a limited-edition Lego set—the exact one I couldn't afford to buy for Leo.

Meanwhile, my actual son was lying in a noisy, crowded public emergency room, covered in a thin, yellowed hospital blanket.

My fingers gripped my phone so tightly they went numb.

I turned to look at the sleeping Leo.

He was so well-behaved, barely even crying out loud when he was sick.

All because Ethan had once told him that "crying boys are annoying."

I stood up, walked over to the nurse's station, and borrowed a pair of scissors.

I snipped a piece of the medical tape.

Then, I dialed our home landline.

No one answered.

He was at the private hospital, playing daddy to his mistress's child.

Perfect.

I sat back down, opened my banking app, and transferred every single cent left in that account to my best friend, Sarah.

There was only $2,000 left.

Over the past three years, Ethan had drained all my savings using every excuse imaginable.

He said he was investing, managing our wealth, and planning for our future.

It turned out his "future" never included me or Leo.