Chapter 4

The phone rang a dozen times before he finally picked up.

"Hey."

I gripped the phone, my knuckles turning white.

"It's me," I said, my throat feeling like sandpaper.

There was a second of silence on the other end.

"What's wrong? Have you been crying?" Marcus asked.

"Did you and Lily have another fight?"

Before I could even answer, he sighed.

"She's just a kid, Chloe. Cut her some slack."

Those words felt like a needle driving straight into my brain.

I smiled bitterly.

"Marcus."

"Yeah?"

"Do you love me?"

The air instantly froze.

Over the line, I heard the sound of papers shuffling, followed by the metallic click of a lighter.

He was lighting a cigarette.

"Why are you asking that now?" his voice was laced with impatience. "We're married."

Right. Married.

When I emptied my savings to bail his company out, he said we were married.

When I stepped back from my career to raise Lily, he said we were married.

But now, when I asked if he loved me, all he could say was that we were married.

My heart grew colder by the second.

"Oh, by the way," he said, as if suddenly remembering something. "I have a new project coming up, and I'm short two million dollars."

"Wire it to my account tomorrow."

It wasn't a request. It was an order.

I said nothing.

Only his shallow breathing and the sound of my dying heart filled the silence.

"Chloe? You there? What's wrong with you?"

He finally sensed something was off.

I took a deep breath. "Nothing."

"Get back to work."

I hung up.

The phone slipped from my palm.

Two million dollars. He said it so casually.

Suddenly, everything clicked.

Marcus and I weren't two high school sweethearts reunited by fate.

This was a meticulously planned financial rescue mission.

He knew I was wealthy.

So, he brought his daughter into my house, drove my cars, spent my money, and spent every waking moment prioritizing his daughter over me.

And what was I?

A walking ATM. A free nanny.

Details I had willfully ignored for years came rushing back.

For his birthday, I bought him a Patek Philippe.

The first words out of his mouth weren't about whether he liked it. It was: "How much is this worth?"

When Lily skipped school and the principal called, he was always "in a meeting," always "too busy." I was always the one who went.

I bowed my head, apologizing to the teachers and taking the blame.

Yet when we got home, Marcus would pat Lily on the shoulder and say, "Your stepmom is just making a big deal out of nothing. Just be careful next time."

See? In his eyes, I was always "your stepmom." An outsider.

This father-daughter duo enjoyed my warmth while laughing at my stupidity.

No more tears came out. My heart felt dry.

I had given up the golden years of my career for him.

I had given up my right to be a biological mother for him.

I had given him all my love and money.

Now, I wanted none of it back.

I picked up my phone, scrolled through my contacts, and found a number.

I sent a text:

*Draft a divorce agreement. I want to see it tonight.*