Chapter 2

Amber grew bolder by the day, acting like she already owned the place.

At first, she only demanded expensive cravings.

Soon, she began picking apart my clothes, my cooking, and my very presence.

"Chloe, isn't that robe a little old? Doesn't Ethan get sick of looking at you?"

"This soup has zero flavor. Pregnancy dulls my taste buds—are you doing this on purpose?"

"Can you stop pacing around the living room? Looking at your face gives me a headache."

Every single time, Ethan took her side without hesitation.

"Chloe, she's pregnant. Can't you just cut her some slack?"

"You're always so petty. No wonder our marriage hit a wall."

"Amber is young and straightforward. Don't be so sensitive."

Listening to them, whatever warmth left in my heart turned to ice.

I used to tell myself that Ethan was just short-tempered, just emotionally distant.

It wasn't until I saw him fiercely protecting another woman that I realized the truth: he wasn't incapable of love.

He just didn't love me.

One evening at dinner, Amber slammed her fork onto the table.

"I'm craving the lobster from Ocean Prime."

Ethan paused.

"Babe, that place is outrageously expensive."

Tears welled up in Amber's eyes immediately.

"The baby wants it, not me! Can't you even spare that much for your own child?"

Ethan's expression soured.

I seized the moment and chimed in.

"Ethan, she's carrying your child. What's wrong with spoiling her a little?"

"Didn't you say she’s doing the greatest service for your family?"

Trapped by his own ego, Ethan gritted his teeth and pulled out his phone.

"Fine. I'll make a reservation."

I immediately added, "Oh, and make sure not to use our joint account."

"You signed that paper yesterday stating all of Amber’s expenses are your personal responsibility."

Ethan's fingers stiffened, and he glared daggers at me.

"Chloe, is it really necessary to count every single penny like this?"

I took a slow sip of my soup.

"Of course it is. After all, you two are building a future together. I wouldn't want to mooch off your happiness."

Amber missed the dripping sarcasm entirely and snuggled smugly into Ethan’s chest.

"Ethan, she’s right. You spending money on me proves you love me."

Pacified by her sweet talk, Ethan’s temper melted away.

From that day on, he bled money for Amber daily.

Imported fruit baskets, luxury prenatal massage chairs, designer purses, and a massive deposit for an elite postpartum wellness retreat.

For every single expense, I made sure he transferred the funds from his personal account.

And for every single transaction, I took screenshots and saved the receipts.

Whenever Ethan complained, I just smiled warmly.

"It's proof of your love! When the baby grows up, he'll look back and see just how much his daddy adored him."

Amber eagerly chimed in.

"Exactly, babe! We have to keep a paper trail of how wonderful you are to our baby."

She had no idea that every manipulative whine out of her mouth was driving another nail into Ethan's financial coffin.

Two weeks later, Ethan’s stress became painfully obvious.

Cash flow at his small logistics firm was drying up, yet he had already burned through over thirty thousand dollars on Amber.

He started dropping hints to me.

"Chloe... didn't you have some mutual funds tucked away?"

"Amber’s due date is creeping closer, and the expenses are piling up."

I stared at him, my gaze unflinching.

"You want me to fund your mistress and her baby?"

Ethan scowled.

"Don't make it sound so ugly. Once the baby is born, I won't let you walk away empty-handed."

I let out a dry laugh.

"Oh? How generous of you. What do I get?"

He hesitated for a second.

"When the time comes... I can let you be the baby's godmother."

I nearly burst out laughing at the sheer audacity.

The floating comments exploded across my view:

[The audacity of this clown!]

[The scumbag really thinks he's handing out an award!]

[Wait till you see what's next—he's planning to refinance your house behind your back!]

My fingers froze.

The house was bought before our marriage; I had put down the entire down payment, and we had shared the mortgage payments afterward.

Ethan had always resented that my name alone was on the primary deed, claiming it made him feel like an outsider.

I had never agreed to change it.

That night, sleep eluded me.

At one in the morning, Ethan crept out to the balcony, his phone pressed to his ear.

Through the crack in the glass sliding door, his hushed voice drifted in:

"Yeah, the house counts as marital property."

"My wife won't be an issue. She’s too scared to put up a fight right now."

"Approve the secondary mortgage loan first. Once the cash clears, I just need a few weeks to turn things around."