Chapter 2

It was just severe malnutrition.

After hesitating for a long moment, I finally spoke.

"Excuse me. How much does an abortion cost?"

The doctor looked up, a little puzzled. "An abortion? You're not that young anymore. Does your husband know you're considering it?"

I kept my head down, at a loss for how to answer.

He sighed, a note of regret in his voice. "It'll run you about ten thousand."

I glanced at my phone. After putting the examination fee on my credit card, I had only three hundred dollars left.

Out of the hospital, I headed straight for the Harding Group with my medical report.

I still wanted to ask him face to face. If I kept the baby, the follow-up checkups and getting everything set up for the pregnancy would cost a fair amount too.

Outside the CEO's office, Ivy stopped me.

"Mr. Harding's in a meeting. Is there something you need, Mrs. Harding?"

I clutched the report, my voice small. "I really am pregnant. If I'm going to keep the baby, I need money..."

Ivy glanced at it, then tossed the report back at me.

"Mrs. Harding, you really don't give up, do you. You even went and got a fake ultrasound."

"And next month, are you going to fake a miscarriage so you can squeeze out some medical fees too?"

A few of the staff in the CEO's office heard and turned their heads.

"Come on, doesn't Mr. Harding give his wife plenty every month? She has to fake a pregnancy for money?"

"She really treats Mr. Harding like an ATM."

With every word they said, my head sank a little lower.

Ivy stepped around me and pressed the elevator button.

"Mrs. Harding, kindly stop disrupting our work. This way, please."

I tucked the report into my bag and made my way downstairs amid the whispers.

Passing through the lobby, I heard Ivy on the phone, scolding the front desk.

"Don't let these deadbeats into the company from now on!"

Seeing that, I could only quicken my steps and leave.

I pressed a hand to my belly, murmuring to myself, "Baby, what is Mommy supposed to do?"

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of the Hermès bag hanging from my arm, and suddenly an idea came to me.

I rushed to the nearest luxury resale shop.

Seeing how hurried I was, the owner decided I was desperate for cash and offered only eighty thousand dollars.

It was the birthday gift Denys had given me this year, a limited nationwide release that was nearly impossible to get, no matter how much money you had.

But I had no choice. I sold the bag anyway.

I'd grown used to hard times. Only now, with the money in my account, did I finally feel a little more at ease.

That very night, the Harding Group wife selling a designer bag secondhand was trending online.

In the photo, I was handing the bag over to the shop owner.

Some comments called me a reckless spender selling my things to cover debts. Others said my marriage had fallen apart and I was taking the money and running.

Soon Denys called me.

He kept his voice low. "Are you that desperate for money? Desperate enough to sell the birthday gift I gave you?"

"No wonder Ivy said you came by this afternoon with a fake pregnancy report, demanding money."

I wanted to explain.

But he gave me no chance to speak.

"If you need money, you can tell Ivy. There's no need to take the money and run.

His voice was low, thick with disappointment.

Every word I'd meant to say died in my throat. All that was left was, "Understood."

I hung up. I hadn't even decided whether I wanted to keep the baby.

The eighty thousand that had just landed in my account, along with the money Rebecca had lent me, was all transferred out.

Ivy sent me a message: "Mr. Harding says you don't know how to control your spending, so I've moved this money for now. I'll hold onto it for you."

The next day, everything of value in my home was hauled out.

The genuine leather sofa, the smart appliances, even the potted plants on the balcony. Nothing was left.