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I Billed Him for Every Betrayal. He Paid It All
Novelix
Completed
My husband ignored me dying six feet behind him. But when Vanessa needed him, he heard her instantly. He drained our savings for her necklaces while my brother lay in the ICU. He tried to take my mother's house to fund her lifestyle. So I started charging him. Fifteen thousand for the crab he peeled for her. Seventy-five thousand for the thunderstorm visit. Three hundred thousand for moving her into my home. He paid every time. He thought I was greedy. He never realized I was saving every dollar to bury him. By the time he understood, I had his company, his money, and his confession on tape. And he had nothing.
Chapters (3)
第1章
My husband could ignore me dying six feet behind him.
But when Vanessa Reed needed him, he heard her instantly.
Grant Prescott wore noise canceling headphones everywhere in our townhouse. He claimed his nerves could not tolerate the slightest sound. In reality, those headphones gave him the perfect excuse to shut me out.
"The hospital called about Evan's bill."
"The kitchen sink is leaking."
"Grant, please. I need help."
Nothing ever reached him.
Then one night, a violent stomach infection dropped me to the living room floor. I called his name until my voice gave out. For ten minutes, he sat on the couch with his back to me, music in his ears, while I curled around the pain.
He never turned around.
Later that night, Vanessa posted a story on Instagram.
"The second I need him, a certain someone takes off those headphones. I guess some people really do come first."
The photo showed Grant leaning toward her, his headphones resting around his neck. He was smiling in a way I had not seen in years.
I stared at the picture until something inside me went quiet.
I could have cried. I could have demanded an explanation. I could have begged him to remember that I was his wife.
Instead, I opened my banking app and sent him an invoice.
Then I walked into the living room and held the screen in front of his face.
"Companionship fee," I said. "Fifteen thousand dollars an hour."
Grant finally took off his headphones.
And for the first time in our marriage, I had his full attention.
"Pay up."
Grant stared at the invoice, his brows pulling together.
"What kind of stunt is this, Claire?"
He ripped off his headphones and tossed them onto the couch.
"Vanessa just moved back to New York. She hardly knows anyone here anymore. What is wrong with me looking out for her? Do you have to turn everything into some grubby little transaction?"
My face stayed blank.
"Pay me, or stop seeing her. Your choice."
He gave a humorless laugh, pulled out his phone, and opened his private banking app.
My phone chimed. The wire had cleared. Fifteen thousand dollars.
"There. And do not use your money grubbing standards to judge what Vanessa and I have. There is nothing improper between us."
I checked the extra fifteen thousand in my account and went straight to my room.
Nothing improper?
I did not care.
My younger brother, Evan Morgan, was lying in intensive care. The ventilator, feeding solution, and private nursing care devoured money every day.
If Grant was willing to pay, I was willing to take it.
Thunder cracked after midnight. Rain hammered the windows.
Grant's phone rang. One glance at the screen and he threw back the covers, moving with sudden urgency.
"Where are you going?" I asked, propped against the headboard.
He pulled on his shirt. "Vanessa has been afraid of thunder since she was a child. She lives alone. I need to make sure she is okay. Go to sleep. Do not wait up."
I stopped him at the bedroom door.
"Emergency comfort call. Seventy five thousand dollars."
He froze, then turned to stare at me as if I had lost my mind.
"Are you really this obsessed with money? Someone is in distress, and you want to talk about fees?"
I raised my phone and sent him a payment request.
"Thunder will not kill her. But unless you pay, you are not walking out that door tonight."
His chest rose and fell as he glared at me. Then he clenched his jaw and approved the wire.
My phone chimed again. Seventy five thousand dollars.
"Satisfied? I do not even know who you are anymore."
He slammed the front door behind him.
I looked at my account balance and immediately wired all ninety thousand dollars to Mercy Medical Center.
That would cover another two weeks of Evan's treatment.
The next afternoon, Grant's assistant delivered a packet from his attorneys. Inside was a petition asking the hospital to withdraw life support.
Grant called moments later.
"Evan has been unresponsive for three months. Even the doctors say his chances of waking up are almost nonexistent. How long are you going to keep throwing money at a lost cause? Sign the papers. Let him go with some dignity."
My fingers tightened around the pen until my knuckles went white.
"Evan is my only brother. As long as he is breathing, no one is pulling that plug."
Vanessa's soft, flirtatious voice drifted through the phone.
"Grant, what do you think of this tie clip?"
His tone turned warm at once. "It looks great. Everything you choose does."
Then he covered the receiver, and the ice returned to his voice.
"I do not care whether you sign it. Starting today, I am not paying another cent toward Evan's care. Figure it out yourself."
The call ended.
I tore the authorization into pieces and dropped them in the trash.
He thought he could stop paying.
He was about to learn otherwise.
第2章
That evening, one of Grant's oldest friends hosted a dinner in the private room of an exclusive downtown restaurant.
Grant texted me an order to attend.
"Everyone is here. Do not show up with an attitude."
I took a cab to the restaurant. When I opened the door to the private dining room, Grant occupied the seat of honor.
Vanessa sat at his right hand in the chair that had always been mine.
Conversation stopped for a beat when I entered.
Vanessa rose with a sweet smile. "Claire, you made it. Come sit down."
She pointed to the empty chair at the far end of the long table, as far from Grant as possible.
I walked over and sat.
A server brought out a platter of king crab. Vanessa stared at the shells and pouted.
"Grant, these are so hard. I cannot get them open."
Without a word, he pulled on disposable gloves and picked up the shears. He extracted the meat, arranged it neatly on a small plate, and slid it toward her.
"Here. Be careful not to cut your mouth."
His friends began to tease him.
"Look at Prescott work."
"Vanessa comes back to town, and suddenly Grant remembers how to be charming."
"Relax, Claire. Those two have always been close."
Every face turned toward me, waiting for the scene they were sure I would make.
I took out my phone, opened my chat with Grant, typed a message, and pressed send.
His phone vibrated on the table. The moment he read the screen, his face darkened.
"Have you lost your mind?" He slammed a palm against the table.
I had sent him an invoice.
"Crab service: thirty thousand dollars. Fee for sitting through this performance without causing a scene: fifteen thousand. Total due: forty five thousand dollars."
I met his eyes calmly.
"Settle the bill, Grant."
Vanessa leaned over to read the screen and covered her mouth in shock.
"What are you doing, Claire? He only peeled some crab for me. Why would you charge him for that? Are you short on money? You could have told me. You do not need to treat Grant this way."
Her eyes filled with tears, as though I had wounded her beyond repair.
Grant ripped off the gloves and flung them onto the table.
"Have you gone insane over money? It is bad enough when you pull this nonsense at home. Now you have to humiliate me in public too?"
I leaned back and folded my arms.
"No one forced you to buy. If the price was too high, you could have left the crab alone. You used the service, so you pay for it. Or is the CEO of Prescott Holdings planning to stiff me over forty five thousand dollars?"
His friends exchanged uneasy looks. The room went frigid.
Grant stared at me as if he wanted to tear me apart. Then he snatched up his phone and made the transfer.
My phone chimed. Forty five thousand dollars.
"You have your money. Now get out."
I stood and picked up my purse.
"Pleasure doing business with you. Call anytime."
As I left the room, I heard Vanessa crying behind me.
"I am so sorry, Grant. This is all my fault. I upset her."
He soothed her in a low voice. "It has nothing to do with you. She is completely irrational."
Irrational?
I glanced at the extra forty five thousand in my account and smiled without humor.
For the right price, I could be anything he wanted.
The night air was cool outside the restaurant. I hailed a cab and went straight to the hospital.
Evan's attending physician met me outside the ICU and handed me a bill.
"Ms. Morgan, your brother's medication authorization is due for renewal. We also reached Dr. Adrian Mercer, the neurosurgeon in Boston. He will be in New York next week. If he agrees to operate, your brother's chances improve considerably. Between the surgery and his fee, you would need at least seven hundred fifty thousand dollars."
Seven hundred fifty thousand dollars.
I tightened my grip on the invoice.
"Secure the appointment. I will find the money."
Seven hundred fifty thousand dollars was nothing.
I would make Grant hand it over willingly.
第3章
When I opened the door to my townhouse at noon the next day, a brand new pair of women's heels sat in the foyer.
Vanessa sat on the living room rug in one of Grant's oversized dress shirts, playing with the cat. Grant emerged from the kitchen carrying a plate of sliced fruit.
He looked startled to see me, then frowned.
"Why are you home at this hour?"
I glanced at Vanessa. "This is my house. Do I need permission to come home?"
She scrambled to her feet and tugged at the hem of the shirt.
"Please do not misunderstand. A pipe burst in my kitchen, and the whole place flooded. I could not stay there. Grant felt sorry for me, so he said I could use a room here for a few days."
I looked at him. "You invited her to stay?"
He set the fruit on the coffee table, utterly unapologetic.
"She is a woman living alone. Of course something like that frightened her. We have plenty of empty rooms. What is the problem with letting her stay for a few days? Stop being so petty."
I nodded. "Fine."
I picked up a pen and a sheet of paper from the coffee table, wrote out a single line, and pushed it toward him.
"Guest room in an Upper East Side townhouse: fifteen thousand dollars a day. Emotional distress surcharge: thirty thousand a day. One week in advance comes to three hundred fifteen thousand dollars."
His face went black.
"Three hundred grand for a few nights? You might as well rob me at gunpoint."
I held his gaze.
"This house belongs to me. My name is on the deed. If you cannot afford it, tell her to leave."
Tears spilled down Vanessa's cheeks at once.
"I will go. I will leave right now. I do not want to damage your marriage."
She made a show of walking toward the door. Grant caught her by the arm.
"You are not going anywhere."
He swung toward me, breathing hard.
"Fine. I will pay. I might as well be throwing it to a dog."
He wired three hundred fifteen thousand dollars.
I checked the deposit and slipped my phone away.
"Payment received. The living room and kitchen cost extra. Touch my belongings and you replace them at full value."
I returned to the primary bedroom and locked the door.
That afternoon, I checked the statement on the card Grant had given me. The night before, he had spent one hundred seventy five thousand dollars on a limited edition Van Cleef and Arpels necklace at a boutique on Madison Avenue.
I laughed bitterly.
He did not blink at buying Vanessa a necklace. Yet paying my brother's hospital bills was somehow pouring money into a bottomless pit.
The hospital called that evening.
"Ms. Morgan, Dr. Mercer's schedule has changed. He had agreed to take your brother's case, but he withdrew today."
My stomach tightened. "Why?"
The doctor sighed.
"Someone offered him triple his fee to consult on a woman's sprained ankle."
A sprained ankle?
Someone had hired a world renowned neurosurgeon for a sprained ankle?
The blood roared in my ears. I ended the call and rushed out of the bedroom.
The living room was empty. I opened the guest room door.
Vanessa sat on the bed while Grant held an ice pack to her ankle. The necklace worth one hundred seventy five thousand dollars gleamed around her throat.
"Is Dr. Mercer really coming to look at my foot?" she asked. "Is that not a waste of his talent?"
Grant's voice was tender.
"Whatever it costs, it is worth it if you recover faster. Mercer was supposed to operate on Evan, but I offered him seven hundred fifty thousand dollars. He changed his schedule."
I stood in the doorway, my blood turning to ice.
Seven hundred fifty thousand dollars.
Evan's chance to live.
Grant had stolen it so a neurosurgeon could examine Vanessa's twisted ankle.
