The Eight-Hundred Dollar Allowance

When the third month rolled around and I handed the nanny her $800 allowance for groceries and supplies, she threw her apron on the counter and quit. As she stormed out, she muttered curses under her breath. "The richer they get, the cheaper they are. What the hell am I supposed to do with $800? If you don't have money, don't hire a nanny." Holding my newborn baby, tears streamed silently down my face. When we first got married, Arthur couldn't wait to give me a $10,000 monthly allowance, constantly complaining that I wasn't spending enough. But ever since his newly hired executive assistant, Chloe, took over managing his personal finances, my monthly allowance was slashed to exactly $800. Forget paying a nanny's salary—it wasn't even enough to cover the baby's formula. Arthur carelessly blew fifty thousand dollars buying Chloe a haute couture gown for an event. Meanwhile, I sat at home, exhausted and unkempt, holding our child, unable to even afford a decent meal for myself. Pushed to the absolute brink, I finally called Arthur’s best friend. "The baby is out of formula and won't stop crying. I haven't eaten all day..." Hearing my choked sobs, Noah didn't ask questions. He immediately rushed over to help me with the baby. That same evening, Arthur happened to come home. He walked in, his face turning an ugly shade of iron-gray as he saw his best friend holding his baby and cooking dinner in his kitchen. "What the hell are you doing here?!" he demanded. Noah glared back at him, his voice like ice. "You neglect your own wife, and you have the audacity to interrogate me? Eight hundred dollars? Is that a joke to you?" "You probably spent more than that on a pair of socks for your little assistant!" Arthur froze. He turned to me, a look of profound disbelief on his face. "What $800 a month? I clearly told her to give you $8,000!" Everyone in the room stood frozen in shock. It was the third day since the nanny had walked out. I had just finished eating my very last packet of instant ramen. The baby's formula tin was completely empty. I had managed to scrape together one final bottle, but it wasn't enough. Still hungry, the baby wailed at the top of her lungs. Panic set in as I paced the living room, bouncing her gently for what felt like hours. "Shh, baby, don't cry. Mommy hasn't eaten all day either." Desperate, I opened the fridge. Inside sat two cartons of expired milk and a plastic bag of wilted spinach. After three consecutive months of an $800 allowance, the apartment had been stripped bare of anything edible. I sighed, pulling out the spinach, hoping to boil it. But as I touched the leaves, I noticed a fine layer of white mold. They crumbled between my fingers. I carried my sobbing baby in circles around the living room. Her tiny face was turning a horrifying shade of purple from crying so hard. But there wasn't a single drop of milk left in the bottle. I collapsed onto the floor in absolute despair, my tears falling in defeat. Last month, when I took her to the pediatric clinic for her vaccinations, the nurse mentioned her weight was tracking low and told me to feed her more frequently. I lied to the nurse, saying the baby just had a small appetite. It wasn't a small appetite. There simply wasn't any food. I couldn't even feed myself. How was I supposed to feed her? Taking a deep, shuddering breath, I swallowed my pride and dialed Arthur’s number. It rang several times before Arthur finally picked up, his voice dripping with impatience. "Didn't I tell you? You have to schedule a call with my assistant before you dial me directly." "I am incredibly busy right now. Taking this call is costing me hundreds of thousands of dollars." He had emphasized it repeatedly: his schedule was grueling. If I needed him, I had to book a time slot through his assistant first. But the baby wouldn't stop screaming. I couldn't care about his rules anymore. "Arthur, we're out of formula. The baby is hungry, and I haven't eaten anything all day..." Arthur's tone shifted abruptly. "What's going on?" "The money isn't enough..." Before I could finish my sentence, Chloe’s sharp, breathy giggle echoed through the speaker. "Mr. Sterling, is your wife using the baby as an excuse to beg for more money again?" "See? I told you. Clara is just a gold digger. You give her an allowance, and she just gets greedier, using her own child to milk you for more cash." Hearing that, Arthur's voice instantly turned freezing cold. "Clara, I've told you before. Using the child to extort cash is unacceptable." Chapter 2 "Your allowance for the month was transferred by Chloe weeks ago. The company is facing a cash flow bottleneck right now. Stop spending recklessly and learn to budget." The call disconnected abruptly. The dial tone echoed in my ear, and my heart turned to absolute ice. Three months ago, Arthur casually informed me that his new executive assistant, Chloe, would be handling all of his personal household expenditures. When I called Chloe to request the monthly funds, she answered with a sugary sweet, condescending tone. "Clara, Mr. Sterling's capital is tied up in a major acquisition right now. He's had to compress the household budget. You'll just have to make do." When the $800 hit my account, I stared at the screen in disbelief. "Arthur is only giving me $800?" Chloe’s smile faded into a patronizing sigh over the line. "I'm just an assistant. I execute Mr. Sterling's orders. Take it up with him." But previously, my monthly allowance was $10,000, and Arthur constantly nagged me for being too frugal. "You're my wife, Clara. Earning money is pointless if I can't spoil you with it." He always remembered how I had stuck by him when he was broke, sharing a cramped studio apartment, and he swore he would give me the absolute best life had to offer. But now? Eight hundred dollars to feed and care for myself and a newborn? In this city? It was mathematically impossible. I tried to tell Arthur the funds weren't enough, but received a cold, formal text in response. "Chloe informed me you've been calling her three times a day. It is severely impacting my operational efficiency." "From now on, if you need to speak with me, schedule an appointment with Chloe. If she approves the time, she will transfer the call." "Also, Chloe mentioned you've been complaining about the budget. Grow up and act your age." From that day forward, getting Arthur on the phone became virtually impossible. Every time I tried to "schedule an appointment," Chloe would decline it, citing his "packed schedule." When the first $800 hit my account, I went to a discount pharmacy to buy the cheapest formula available. One tin was $27. Two tins were $54. After paying the electric and water bills, the remaining $700 evaporated. The second month brought another $800. I bought diapers and two massive boxes of instant ramen. When the third month's $800 arrived, we were down to our last three diapers, the formula tin was scraped clean, and the ramen was gone. It was a terrifying cycle of barely surviving. When the third $800 deposit cleared, the nanny happened to see the notification on my phone. She let out a scoff of pure disgust. "You people are pathetic. What is $800 going to cover? If you're broke, don't hire a nanny." "And by the way, you haven't paid my salary in three months. If I don't see that money soon, I'm taking you to small claims court." She ripped off her apron, threw it on the counter, and walked out. Thinking about all this, I took a deep breath of pure despair. I scrolled through my contacts until I found a familiar name, and hit the call button. "Are you busy right now? Could you please come help me watch the baby? She's out of formula, and I haven't eaten all day..." My voice broke into a choked sob as I spoke. "I'm so sorry. I know this is a huge imposition." "But I am completely out of options. I don't know anyone else in this city. Your number was the only one I had saved..." The line went quiet for two agonizing seconds. "Stay right there. I'm on my way." Noah. Arthur's college roommate, and his absolute best friend. He was the best man at our wedding. During his toast, he had laughed and promised, "If Arthur ever mistreats you, Clara, you call me. I'll be the first one to kick his ass." I never imagined that promise would be tested so soon. Less than forty minutes later, the doorbell rang. I opened the door. Noah stood there, sweating through his shirt, holding three massive grocery bags. When he saw the state I was in, he froze. "Clara, don't cry." "Let me take her." He handed me a takeout bag from a nice deli. "Eat this while it's hot. Soup and a sandwich." Then he pulled two tins of premium organic formula from the bags and immediately went to the kitchen to sterilize a bottle. My hands were shaking so badly I could barely hold the spoon. After two bites of soup, my shrunken stomach violently rejected the food. I gagged, fighting the urge to throw up. Chapter 3 Noah didn't rush me. He just quietly tore the sandwich into smaller, manageable pieces and placed them on a napkin. "Where is Arthur? Does he know what's happening here?" I shook my head. Noah went quiet, then asked, "How long has it been since he came home?" I let out a bitter, exhausted laugh. "Maybe a month?" "He's been traveling constantly. He stopped by last month for ten minutes to grab some legal documents, and then he left again." And he had his assistant, Chloe, trailing right behind him. Arthur had barely picked up our daughter before Chloe checked her designer watch and rudely interrupted him. "Mr. Sterling, you've been holding the baby for sixty seconds. In sixty seconds, you generate thousands of dollars. We cannot afford to delay your schedule any further." Arthur's face stiffened awkwardly. He reluctantly handed the baby back to me. "Clara, take good care of her. Once this merger is finalized, I'll come home and spend some time with you." But that "merger" had seemingly dragged on for nearly three months. I heard rumors through the grapevine that he had purchased a luxury penthouse in the city he was supposedly "traveling" to, just to be closer to his new project. Noah’s expression turned dangerously dark. He pulled his phone from his pocket, preparing to dial. I quickly reached out and grabbed his wrist. "Don't call him. He's busy..." What I didn't say was: If you call him without an appointment, he might get so angry he cuts off the pathetic $800 allowance next month. Noah scoffed coldly. "Busy? Busy buying gowns for Chloe?" "It's all over our social circles. Everyone's talking about it. He supposedly bought out the entire VIP floor of Cartier for his little assistant's birthday." "He dropped fifty grand on a custom haute couture gown for her, and didn't even blink." I lowered my head, my fingernails digging painfully into my palms. So everyone knew. Everyone knew, while I sat locked in this apartment like an absolute fool, stretching $800 to keep my baby alive. Seeing the color drain from my face, Noah realized he had overstepped. "I didn't mean it like that. I just... I think Arthur is being a monumental piece of shit to you." Noah looked around the barren, empty apartment and sighed heavily. He immediately opened his phone and placed a massive grocery delivery order—fresh vegetables, meats, and weeks worth of baby supplies. "Clara, you can't be this passive. If Arthur keeps treating you like this, you need to divorce him." Since I was his best friend's wife, he had to tread carefully. He offered the advice, but couldn't force me to take it. But we had a child together. And my body had been severely damaged during a traumatic delivery. If I divorced him, what would happen to my daughter? Despite everything, I was profoundly grateful Noah came. His groceries meant my baby and I wouldn't starve for at least another two weeks. Two days later, my phone rang. It was my mother-in-law. "Clara, sweetheart! I'm planning to drive up and visit you and the baby later this week. Oh, by the way, did that $10,000 allowance I sent you last month clear your account?" I froze completely. "Ten thousand dollars? When did this happen?" Hearing my confusion, my mother-in-law's tone immediately shifted to serious concern. "You didn't get it?" "That idiot son of mine... I explicitly told him to transfer it to you. What the hell is he doing?!" "Mom..." My lips were trembling uncontrollably. "Arthur handed over all household finances to his assistant, Chloe. Everything goes through her now." "Last time I asked, Chloe told me you were furious that I had a girl instead of a boy, so you refused to send me a single cent..." My mother-in-law inhaled sharply through her teeth, muttering a vicious curse under her breath. "That bastard!" "Clara, stay right there. I am driving over right now, and I am going to handle this!" Half an hour later, the doorbell rang aggressively. The moment my mother-in-law laid eyes on me, her face contorted in shock. "You..." Her eyes swept over my swollen, puffy face and exhausted, disheveled appearance. Profound heartbreak filled her eyes. "Oh, my poor girl... Has that animal been starving you?!" She rushed over and picked up the baby, her eyes blazing with absolute fury. Chapter 4 "She's only a few months old, and she's wearing a single, paper-thin onesie?!" "What kind of father is Arthur playing at?!" I looked down at the faded, cheap cotton onesie my daughter was wearing. It was a clearance rack item I had found at a discount store for $3. It was literally the cheapest piece of clothing I owned for her. I remembered the disgusted look the cashier had given me. "If you're going to be this cheap with a baby, why even have one?" "Can't afford it, shouldn't breed." The words had burned like acid in my chest. Who would believe that the woman buying a $3 clearance onesie was married to a multi-millionaire CEO? If I told anyone, they'd assume I was insane. "Where is the night nurse?" my mother-in-law demanded. "Chloe said... she said the night nurse was here for one day, and then she fired her." My mother-in-law looked bewildered. "What right does she have to fire your staff?!" I whispered, "Chloe told me I needed to learn how to raise my own child. She said if millions of other women can do it without help, why shouldn't I?" My mother-in-law slammed her hand down violently on the kitchen island. "Outrageous! Since when does a hired assistant dictate how the Sterling family operates?!" She dropped off the bags of high-end baby clothes and supplies she had bought, then immediately pulled out her phone and wired $10,000 directly into my personal account. Looking furious, she marched out the door, swearing she was going straight to the corporate office to tear Chloe apart. I genuinely believed the nightmare was over. But whatever Chloe said to her behind closed doors must have been incredibly persuasive. When my mother-in-law finally called me back hours later, her tone was entirely different. It was laced with awkward hesitation. "Clara, honey... I know the $800 a month was an awful misunderstanding, and you suffered immensely." "But... Chloe explained things to me. She had her reasons for doing what she did." "Just try to be a little more accommodating, okay?" I stared at the text message transcription of the voicemail for a very, very long time. I let out a desolate, hollow laugh. I didn't know what "reasons" the little assistant could possibly have invented. I only knew that my mother-in-law, who had sworn to protect me hours ago, was now standing on the enemy's side. A few weeks passed. Noah showed up at my apartment again, carrying several large shopping bags. He was practically a regular now. The moment he walked in, he started doing my laundry, cleaning the apartment, and prepping meals in the kitchen. Even my daughter would coo and smile at him. In those fleeting moments, it felt like a bizarre alternate reality where the three of us were a family. That evening, Arthur unexpectedly unlocked the front door. He walked in, took one look at his best friend holding his baby and cooking in his kitchen, and his face turned an ugly, livid purple. He marched over and grabbed Noah violently by the collar. "Noah, what the fuck are you doing in my house holding my kid?!" Noah glared back at him, his face like stone. "You neglect your own wife, and you have the balls to interrogate me? You're a hotshot CEO, and you give your wife $800 a month to survive? Is that supposed to be a joke?" "You probably spent more than that on the socks you bought your little assistant!" Arthur completely froze. He whipped his head around, staring at me in utter disbelief. "What $800 a month?! I clearly authorized a transfer of $8,000 a month!" Noah was stunned. I was paralyzed. My face went deathly pale. A freezing chill crept up my spine. "Wh... what did you say?" "It was only $800. How could it be $8,000?" "Starting from your fifth month of pregnancy, I explicitly instructed Chloe to wire $8,000 a month from the corporate expense account directly to your debit card." Arthur, desperate to prove he wasn't lying, yanked his phone out and pulled up the corporate ledger. "Look at it yourself." The ledger indeed showed a recurring monthly transfer of $8,000. But the receiving account ended in 5188. I stared at it in silence before finally speaking. "My debit card ends in 7312." Arthur’s face drastically changed colors. "Chloe said you closed that account. She said you thought it was compromised, so you gave her your new routing numbers..." His voice trailed off, dropping lower and lower, a flicker of profound confusion flashing in his eyes. "Don't tell me... you never closed your account? That routing number isn't yours?" I shook my head slowly. "It's not mine." Arthur stood completely rigid, like he had turned to stone. "That's impossible. Chloe would never lie to me."