Chapter 1

When I got married to Duncan, he said his only requirement for me was that I spend all fifty million in one year, without a single cent left over.

Because I'd gone through too many poor days with him,we'd lived in a cramped basement and survived on tap water,and in our poorest year, I paid for my own abortion with the money I made delivering food.

After Duncan made it big, he often felt he owed me.

He kept trying to break me of my habit of pinching every penny.

Until Narelle, his childhood sweetheart and self-proclaimed marriage coach, returned from abroad.

Narelle said we weren't equal, and gave our marriage a zero.

She told Duncan: love can't be sustained by money.

So Duncan froze my black card.

He canceled the honeymoon trip I'd been counting down to for months.

He even canceled the money he'd prepaid at the hospital for my prenatal checkups.

He said he didn't want me to get into the habit of constantly asking him for things.

Despite being pregnant, I had no choice but to dig out that five-year-old second-hand electric scooter and earn my own money.

I never expected to wipe out in the rain.

The doctor said I needed to stay in the hospital to protect the pregnancy and kept urging me to pay the medical fees, so I had no choice but to call Duncan.

He rushed over and pulled me into his arms, his face full of worry.

But Narelle, standing nearby with her notebook open, reminded him:

"Duncan, don't give in just because Winona is acting pitiful. Love needs to be fair. I suggest you only pay half the fee."

Hearing that, Duncan immediately let go of me and said with a helpless sigh:

"Winona, did you hear that? No amount of acting cute or playing the victim is going to work today. You'll have to cover the other half yourself."

After they left, I saw on Narelle's social media that Duncan had just bid on a pink diamond worth tens of millions of dollars for her.

It was the gift he'd originally bought for me.

I wiped my tears and quietly did the math.

The half Duncan paid.

Just enough to cover an abortion.

......

The abortion was scheduled for tomorrow afternoon.

After confirming it, I rode that electric scooter home again.

It was only when I pushed the door open that I noticed a pair of delicate heels by the entrance.

Narelle, draped in a bathrobe, was lounging at our dining table.

Seeing me come back, she moved her pen, muttering as she wrote:

"Winona didn't do any housework today and didn't earn a dime. Her economic value, labor value, and emotional value are all zero."

Duncan, carrying dishes out of the kitchen, explained in a low voice:

"To better work through our marriage problems, Narelle's going to stay at our place for now."

"The things she's pointing out about you—you need to remember to change them."

I opened my mouth to refuse, but he cut me off.

"Enough, Come eat first. We'll talk after dinner."

Duncan pulled me to the table, leaving no room for argument.

I sat down in silence.

In front of Narelle were foie gras and steak.

But Duncan pushed a plate of shredded potatoes in front of me and said,

"I made this especially for you."

I didn't touch my chopsticks.

Narelle wore a look that said she'd expected exactly that.

She shrugged and said:

"See? She's already used to measuring your relationship by money."

"The potato dish is cheap, so she looks down on it—but she forgets that you made it yourself."

"I told you long ago, all that frugality she used to put on was just fear that you'd throw her away once you got rich."

"She was just investing early so she'd have something to fall back on. Now that she's got what she wanted, she's forgotten where she came from."

Duncan's face went cold.

"Narelle was right after all. You've really become materialistic."

He'd forgotten that once, in that cramped basement, we always bought one dollar's worth of potatoes and stir-fried a big plate of shredded potatoes.

Once, I bought a batch that had gone bad because they were cheaper. I ate them and spent the whole night vomiting.

After that, the sight of shredded potatoes was enough to make my stomach turn.

After Duncan's fortune grew into the hundreds of millions, he never let that dish touch our table again.

Every meal, he had the chef prepare eight elaborate dishes.

Japanese cuisine, Cantonese cuisine, French cuisine—never the same twice.

I used to complain that it was wasteful and tell him to cut back.

But he ruffled my hair and said:

"The only reason I make money is to spend it on my wife. So you need to get rid of that penny-pinching habit of yours."

But now, just because I don't eat shredded potatoes, I've been labeled as materialistic based on a single sentence from Narelle.

This Duncan no longer felt like the man I knew.

"Don't forget to pay your share of the bill."

Narelle finished her last bite of foie gras and reminded me.

"Three thousand four hundred and five."

Duncan looked at his phone and sent me the bill.

"How much?"

I was stunned.

"Caviar and foie gras, thirteen hundred; steak, twenty-one hundred; potatoes, five. No problem."

Narelle confirmed.

"I didn't eat a single bite of the caviar or the steak..."

"That's enough."

Duncan frowned and cut me off impatiently.

"Why do you have to split hairs over every little thing with Narelle? She's a guest."

Narelle sighed.

"Never mind. This one's on me, sweetie."

"But remember, people shouldn't be too greedy—don't actually treat Duncan like a sucker."

With that, she sent Duncan the money.

It was returned almost instantly.

Duncan smiled helplessly.

"Come on, Narelle. If I took money from you over a meal like this, what kind of man would I be?"

Narelle didn't press it, and reminded me again:

"Oh, and one more thing—since Duncan cooked, you can wash the dishes."

I looked at my hands.

I'd fallen hard this morning.

Both palms had been scraped raw and were still wrapped in bandages.

But there was no pity in Duncan's eyes. He just said flatly,

"It's not that serious. Don't make such a big deal out of it."

"Go wash them. That's only fair."

I couldn't help letting out a quiet laugh.

Fair?

Those years Duncan spent building his business from the ground up,

I worried about him constantly and never once let him lift a finger around the house.

And I never spent a cent of his money.

I'd given him everything I had.

And this was what I got in return.

The dishes and chopsticks were left sitting in the kitchen.

I didn't touch them. I turned and walked straight back to our bedroom.