Chapter 1

My mom was critically injured in a car crash.

She needed three million dollars for an emergency, life-saving surgery.

I got down on my knees, begging my husband, Julian Vance, to tap into his private investment portfolio. He simply looked down at me from above.

"The success rate of this procedure is less than thirty percent. That makes it a bad investment."

"Jeopardizing my cash flow for the next quarter over someone on their deathbed simply isn't worth it."

With that, he transferred five thousand dollars to my bank account. "Give your mom a decent funeral."

I used to think no one on earth could be colder or more heartless than him.

Until I watched him drop eight million dollars on a team of international specialists—all for a koi fish that refused to eat.

He gently caressed the glass of the tank, his eyes filled with pure obsession. "Her pedigree is priceless."

At that very moment, the brutal truth hit me.

In his eyes, my mother's life wasn't even worth as much as a fish.

"Mr. Vance, don't worry. 'Moonshadow' is just experiencing stress from the new environment."

"We've brought in the world's top water quality specialists and aquatic behavioral consultants. We guarantee her appetite will be fully restored within a week."

Through the massive floor-to-ceiling glass wall of our luxury villa, I watched my husband listening intently to a briefing from a team of high-priced experts.

The intense focus and concern etched on his face were things I had never seen when I was on my knees, pleading for my mother's life.

In front of him stood a custom aquarium that took up half the living room.

Inside swam a koi fish, pristine white except for a brilliant crimson mark on the crown of its head.

This was "Moonshadow," a prized specimen Julian had shelled out twelve million dollars for at an auction last year.

I stood outside the doorway, utterly hollowed out, the critical condition notice from the hospital crumpled in my pocket.

My phone chimed with a banking alert, a chilling reminder.

Five thousand dollars deposited.

That was his contribution. My mother's "funeral expenses."

"Mr. Vance, regarding the care plan, we recommend twenty-four-hour monitoring shifts. The cost will be roughly..."

I couldn't stomach another second. I shoved the door open and stormed inside.

Every set of eyes in the room instantly locked onto me.

With bloodshot eyes, I slammed the critical condition notice onto the coffee table right in front of him.

"Julian! That's my mom! She isn't an investment project!"

"She's still alive! The doctors said there's still a chance!"

The refined elegance and warmth vanished from Julian's face, replaced in a heartbeat by cold disgust.

He flicked his hand dismissively, signaling the experts to step outside.

Then, taking his time, he picked up the notice, didn't spare it a single glance, and tossed it straight into the wastebasket beside him.

"Summer, I've told you before: learn to accept reality."

"Taking on risks that exceed acceptable parameters is just foolish gambling."

He walked over to me, reaching out to touch my cheek, but I recoiled in raw revulsion.

His hand froze in midair, not showing a shred of embarrassment.

"Your mother's illness is a losing bet. And I never play games I can't win."

"That five grand was my way of keeping things dignified. Don't be ungrateful."

I trembled with pure rage, pointing directly at the massive tank.

"And what about that fish?! It skips a few meals, and you blow eight million on a team of specialists! Is its life worth more than my mother's?!"

He followed my finger toward the tank, his gaze instantly softening into something tender.

"Summer, you don't get it."

"She's different."

"Her pedigree is pure, noble—a masterpiece that appears once in a lifetime. Her very existence is an asset that appreciates."

He turned back to look at me, the temperature in his eyes plunging back to absolute zero.

"Your mother, on the other hand? I'm sorry, but she offers zero room for appreciation."

"Her continued existence would only drain our capital and drag down our quality of life."

Finally, I understood everything.

In his meticulously calculated world, everything could be quantified.

Family was an asset.

Love was an investment.

Life was merely a commodity with a price tag attached.

And my mother was nothing more than a bad asset due to be written off.

In that instant, my heart felt like it had been dropped into an abyss of ice.

I sprinted up to our bedroom, tearing through closets and drawers like a madwoman.

My jewelry, my designer handbags, anything I thought might carry value.

I was going to sell it all! I was going to scrape the cash together myself!

Yet when I flung open my jewelry box, it was completely bare.

Inside the walk-in closet, every single luxury bag had vanished without a trace.

Then it hit me.

Last month, Julian claimed those items were "outdated" and "dragging down our household aesthetic." He had his assistant "clear them out."

He assured me the liquidated funds would be rolled into a new fine-art fund to yield a "superior aesthetic return" for us both.

And me? A top cardiothoracic surgeon in the country. My salary, my specialist consultation fees, my lecture honorariums...

When we got married, he persuaded me to sign a "Unified Household Asset Management Agreement."

Every cent I earned was funneled straight into his private investment accounts.

He had told me, "Babe, you focus on saving lives. Leave the dirty business of making money to me."

Back then, I was so moved I nearly cried.

Looking back now, I was nothing more than a high-yield asset on his personal balance sheet, an automated cash machine.

I snatched my phone, dialing through all my friends and colleagues.

"Hello, Dr. Miller, could you possibly lend me some money..."

"Hey, Sarah, I'm facing an absolute emergency..."

Yet the replies were chillingly identical.

"Oh, Summer, it's not that I don't want to help, but things are really tight right now..."

"Ah, what bad timing. I literally just locked my funds into a long-term investment..."

I collapsed onto the floor, my phone slipping from my limp fingers.

I knew. It was Julian.

He had anticipated that I would turn to others for loans and reached out to everyone ahead of time.

He didn't just want to watch my mother die.

He wanted me to watch her die with my own eyes, forcing me to realize that without him, I was utterly powerless.

He wanted to shatter my spirit completely, forcing me into total, submissive dependence.

What a vicious, sadistic execution.

I didn't sleep a wink that night.

The next morning, I made up my mind.

If he refused to give me the money...

Then I would steal it!