Chapter 1

There'd been a crash.

I was three months pregnant, pinned inside the wreck, one wrong move away from losing us both.

I begged my husband, who didn't have a scratch on him, to call an ambulance.

Instead he took his time pulling out pen and paper and set them down in front of me.

"Sign something first."

"The accident happened because you were being difficult and distracted me. Every loss is on you."

Warm blood slid down my thigh, and panic tore through me.

"Grayson, this is your child—"

He didn't flinch.

"Repairs, emergency fees, and any and all costs after that, you cover them personally."

"You don't sign, I don't make the call."

I couldn't gamble on it. I signed my name, my hand shaking.

There was no ink pad, so I pressed my thumbprint in my own blood.

Grayson nodded, satisfied, folded the paper carefully, and tucked it into his wallet.

He was just about to call for help when the ringtone he kept only for his childhood sweetheart went off.

"Grayson, my dog's in labor, she's stuck, she can't get the puppies out."

"I'm so scared. Can you come help me?"

Grayson answered at once.

"Don't be scared, I'm calling the best animal hospital right now."

"Don't worry about the money, I've got all of it. Just wait for me like a good girl."

Then he left me there alone and walked away without looking back.

I pressed my hand to the cold curve of my belly, and the world blurred.

Maybe it was for the best. With the baby gone, there'd be nothing left tying us together.

1

In the end it was a kind stranger passing by who called the ambulance.

They wheeled me into the emergency room, a nurse's voice drifting somewhere above me.

"Twelve weeks pregnant, hemorrhagic shock, no fetal heartbeat."

"Prep for a D and C. Where's the family?"

Someone gave my arm a gentle nudge.

"Ma'am, I need a number for your family."

My heart clenched so hard I couldn't breathe.

Without thinking, I recited Grayson's number.

The nurse dialed and put it on speaker.

"Is this the family of Aria Sullivan? She was in a car accident, she's hemorrhaging, the baby can't be saved."

"We need a family member to come sign the surgical consent."

The line went quiet for two seconds, then a scoff came through.

"Not this again. Aria, how childish can you get?"

His voice was all irritation.

"I just came to help deliver Sophie Edwards's dog's litter, and you're swearing on our baby over it?"

"Getting jealous of a dog. Have you no shame?"

Faintly, I could hear Sophie in the background.

"Grayson, Mochi won't eat."

He answered her, then turned back to the phone.

"Sophie's cat just gave birth, she's weak, I can't get away."

"Keep all the bills. We'll split it fifty-fifty later. Don't worry, I won't shortchange you."

The call cut off.

"No need. There's nothing left to split, ever again."

I murmured it at the dark screen.

The nurse stood beside me, pity on her face.

"Ms. Sullivan, is there anyone else we can call?"

I shook my head, forced myself upright, and signed my own name with a shaking hand.

When I woke again, the room was empty.

My hand went to my belly on its own. The child I'd waited eight years for was gone from me forever.

On social media, Sophie had posted one thing after another.

A luxury pet delivery room. Grayson feeding a puppy goat's milk formula from a syringe.

The last post was an itemized bill.

Emergency delivery, postpartum care, a private nanny. Thirty-eight hundred dollars total.

In the payer's signature line: Grayson Delgado.

Below it, her reply to a friend's comment:

"Grayson paid for all of it. He said we couldn't let Mochi suffer. You have no idea what it means to have Mochi's daddy right there beside her."

I couldn't help the bitter smile.

I carried his child, and he wanted to split every last thing with me down the middle.

Sophie's dog gives birth, and he pays the money, does the work, and tends to it himself.

So it turned out he wasn't stingy after all. I just wasn't worth his money.

The next moment, Grayson called.

I thought maybe his conscience had caught up with him, that he wanted to know about me and the baby.

Instead, the second it connected, out came the cold interrogation.

"Aria, what's the matter with you?"

"This morning's parking was fifteen dollars. Your share is seven fifty. Why haven't you sent it over yet?"

Listening to him, all I felt was how absurd it was, how cruel.

"We'll settle the gas at the end of the month, but parking's split, seven fifty. Send it now so you don't forget again later."

There was still an IV needle taped into the back of my hand, the cold fluid seeping into me drop by drop.

I'd lost my baby and I was lying in a hospital bed, not sure whether I'd live.

And he was still keeping score over a seven-fifty split bill.

"It's only seven fifty. You're not going to stiff me, are you?"

I opened my phone and quickly sent him the seven-fifty transfer.

He accepted it in a heartbeat and wrote back, "From now on do it yourself. Don't make me ask three, four times."

I scrolled through our whole chat history, nothing but tallies and fifty-fifty splits, back and forth.

Eight years of carefully tending this marriage, and it had turned out utterly pointless.

Let that last seven fifty be the final payment I made on it.