Chapter 1

Three years married. Three years of swallowing it.

All because everything Gerard Gilbert and I did had to go before his circle of friends for a show of hands.

Small things, like matters between the two of us. Big things, like how often we shared a bed.

And his female friend, Myrtle Pruitt, held the single veto.

"You promised. Whatever it is, you'd give in to me. No lies."

Half of our anniversary trip, dragged back so she could throw a birthday party for her dog. I said nothing.

Running a fever of a hundred and four and told to walk to the hospital. I bore it.

Until the day I stood there with my prenatal checkup slip and said the tests, before and after the delivery, would cost fifteen thousand.

Myrtle, off to the side, watched me and raised her hand with a smiling little veto.

"I don't agree. The baby belongs to both of you."

"But the money's all earned by Gerard's hard work alone. You should have to give something too, shouldn't you?"

"For fairness. Don't say I never gave you a chance."

Then she snatched my phone, installed a deal app, opened the spinning wheel, and started forwarding links to collect coupons.

She said flatly that whenever I scraped together fifteen thousand, I'd have earned the right to have the baby.

I cupped my pregnant belly, my eyes red, and made myself ask.

"You agree with this too?"

Gerard dealt the cards without a care in the world, then lifted his eyes.

"Myrtle's had trouble making decisions ever since she was little. It's not often she works up the courage to make one."

"Be generous. Once she's in a better mood, whatever compensation you want is yours."

She was making trouble, and he was smiling.

And it hit me.

That so-called single veto was nothing but favoritism, out in the open for all to see.

If that was how it was, then my life had no room for a love that ran on a show of hands either.

...

"Come on, sis, you're already at a dollar thirty."

I came back to myself as Myrtle waved the "Boost successful" screen at me.

She gave me a smug little smile.

The others picked up their phones too, one after another, tapping the link she'd blasted to the group.

The red-envelope chime kept going off.

There was not a trace of a smile on my face.

My eyes fell on the man in the corner of the sofa, the most privileged one in the room. My husband.

The one Myrtle leaned on above all others. Gerard Gilbert.

"See? Just a little while and it already shows two hundred dollars."

"I bet fifteen thousand only takes half an hour. Right, Gerard?"

Only when she brought me up.

Gerard finally gave a low sound and asked where the app's registration page was.

Then he lifted his phone and scanned the code.

The moment his own ID appeared in the friend-boost list.

My heart went cold, inch by inch.

This wasn't the first time Gerard had indulged Myrtle's games, her wild whims.

The two-person movie date we'd agreed on for my birthday, quietly changed by veto into a haunted escape room.

When the actor scared me so badly I screamed and stumbled everywhere, he simply extended our booking by four more hours, just to keep Myrtle laughing.

Afterward I broke my leg, and he coaxed me with a bowl of porridge he'd made himself.

"Myrtle only wanted to give you a birthday you'd never forget. She didn't mean it. Don't hold it against her."

Even the April Fools' prank, where the streamers got swapped for shards of toxic colored industrial glass.

The doctor said it came within a hair of ruining my eyes, of leaving me blind for good.

Gerard simply handed me a tablet and pointed at the jewelry on it for me to pick.

"I've already scolded her. Next time she acts up, I'll lock her away."

And the rafting trip changed on purpose to a wild, dangerous channel with no safety measures at all, my prenatal meal for expecting mothers swapped for a group-order takeout box...

Do all of that to me, fine. But never joke about the child I'm about to deliver!

A film of tears rose over my eyes.

I forced down the fury and the sting churning in my chest, my hand tightening without my meaning it to.

For the first time, I spoke against him to his face.

"I don't agree. Whatever you two got up to before, fine."

"But this time, forget it!"

I stepped forward to grab my phone back and leave.

Myrtle seemed startled and cried out, backing up half a step.

Her foot slipped, and she went straight into the table lined with red wine.

A loud crash.

She sat there among the shards, still shaking, clutching her forearm as the blood wouldn't stop.

Her eyes flooded red.

I reached out on instinct to help her up, and a figure rushed in and shoved me away.

Gerard held her against him, and the look he turned on me was full of a coldness I didn't recognize.

"Who said you could touch her?"

My lips parted. I wanted to deny it.

But Myrtle broke into sobs first, throwing her arms around his neck, shaking her head, all forlorn.

"Sis didn't mean to. I lost my footing myself."

"I knew she's always cared about money more than anyone. After all, even her own flesh and blood..."

As if she'd said the wrong thing, she quickly covered her mouth.

At that, everyone in the room fell silent.

They all knew Gerard had bought me home with cold hard cash, and they knew that in our poorest year I gave up our first child for fifteen hundred dollars.

Gerard's handsome brows sank darker still, and something like disgust crept into the way he looked at me.

Then he handed down the order, final and absolute.

"Stay by her and finish the boosting. Fifteen thousand. Whenever you have it, that's when you get to have the baby."