The Billionaire's Starving Wife

In my third year of being Ethan Cross's substitute wife, my bank account was draining faster than ever. To make matters worse, I found out I was pregnant. That was the final straw. I decided to get a divorce. Whoever wants to be his little stand-in puppet can have him! When I reached his office door, I overheard him talking to his best friend. "Is three hundred thousand a month really not enough for a wife?" His friend sounded completely shocked. "She thinks three hundred grand is too little?" "Bro, is she keeping a side piece or something?" The office fell dead silent. Ethan's face darkened. "Last night she begged for money, so I had another hundred thousand wired to her." "And this morning? She had my secretary pass along a divorce request. Said if I can't afford to take care of her, I shouldn't bother." Standing outside the door, I was trembling with rage. Looking down at my slightly swollen belly, I couldn't hold it back anymore. I kicked the door open and stormed in. Before he could even process what was happening, I slapped him across the face. "Ethan Cross, just how many substitute wives do you have?" His eyes turned bloodshot, his jaw tight as he ground out, "Only you..." I froze, then threw my debit card right into his face. "Then why the hell am I only getting eighty dollars a month?!" After my period was four weeks late, I gritted my teeth and bought the cheapest pregnancy test at the pharmacy. Staring at the two bold pink lines, my vision went black. I snapped a picture and sent it to my best friend, Chloe, on SnapChat. "Chloe, what do I do? I think I'm pregnant." Chloe replied in seconds. "That absolute scumbag Ethan! He never gives you a dime, but he sure knows how to leave you with a mess!" After cursing Ethan out, she turned her wrath on me. "Are you seriously still going to stick around as his dead ex's doppelganger?" I stared at the screen, silent for a long time. He only kept me around because I looked like the woman he could never let go of. I was just her shadow. I knew from day one that I was a replacement. Yet, I had stayed. I stayed for three whole years. Chloe's tone finally softened. "Honestly though, he only gives you eighty bucks a month. How are you even alive right now?" I offered a bitter smile. "I budget." Eighty dollars a month barely covered cheap bread, let alone real food. Now there was a baby inside me. I couldn't even begin to imagine how Ethan would react when he found out. Taking what little pocket change I had left, I bought a discounted carton of milk and a generic loaf of bread. Leaning against the cold brick wall outside the grocery store, I took a bite, then a sip. A wave of bitter irony washed over me. Sure, I was just a stand-in, but on paper, I was the wife of the billionaire CEO of Cross Enterprises. I lived in a ten-million-dollar penthouse, yet I had to hunt for clearance stickers just to survive. Swallowing the last dry bite of bread, I dialed Ethan's number. As expected, Bianca answered. She was Ethan's executive secretary, and the one in charge of my living allowance. "Mrs. Cross, if I recall correctly, your allowance for this month was already transferred." I forced myself to sound steady, hiding the tremor in my voice. "I'm pregnant." "Tell Ethan that eighty dollars isn't going to cut it this month." There was a pause on the other end, followed by a cold, condescending scoff. "Last time your dog went to the vet, we already made an exception and gave you an extra ten dollars." "And now you're making up a pregnancy?" "Mr. Cross works hard for his money. If you don't have enough, learn to live within your means. Stop acting like a parasite." She hung up before I could say another word. Back then, Ethan had looked into my eyes and promised he would take care of me. He told me to stay home and live like a spoiled billionaire's wife. Yet eighty bucks a month was a cruel joke. Later, I tried working part-time at a local pet shelter to make some spare cash. When Ethan found out, he bought the entire shelter on the spot. "You're Mrs. Cross now. Are you that desperate for pocket change?" He had all the money in the world, yet he never gave me an extra penny. Chloe's question flashed in my mind again: "Are you keeping the baby?" Truth was, I didn't know. Maybe once Ethan knew the truth, I would finally have my answer.I went to the clinic for a checkup. The doctor told me I was over two months along and the fetus was developing normally. The problem was me. I was suffering from severe malnutrition. Hesitating for a moment, I quietly asked, "How much will the treatment and supplements cost?" The doctor sighed with pity. "Around fifteen hundred dollars." I checked my phone. After putting the clinic visit on Klarna, I only had thirty dollars left on my limit. Leaving the clinic, I took the ultrasound report and headed straight for Cross Enterprises. I wanted to ask him face-to-face. If I was going to keep this baby, prenatal care and hospital fees were going to cost a fortune. Outside the executive suite, Bianca blocked my way. "Mr. Cross is in an important meeting. What do you want, Natalie?" I clutched the envelope, keeping my tone humble. "I really am pregnant. If we're keeping the baby, I need money..." Bianca glanced at the paper dismissively and shoved it back into my hands. "You really don't give up, do you? Even faking an ultrasound scan now." "What's next month? Are you going to fake a miscarriage so you can extort another medical fee out of him?" Several employees in the open-plan office looked up at the commotion. "Seriously? Doesn't Mr. Cross give his wife a massive allowance every month? Why is she faking a pregnancy for cash?" "She literally treats him like an ATM." With every whisper, my head sank lower. Bianca brushed past me and pressed the elevator button. "Please don't interrupt our work, Natalie. You can leave now." I tucked the ultrasound into my purse and walked out amidst the mocking whispers. As I passed the ground-floor lobby, I heard Bianca reprimanding the receptionist over the phone: "Don't let that gold-digger into this building ever again!" Humiliated, I quickened my pace and hurried outside. Resting a hand against my stomach, I whispered, "What am I going to do with you, little one?" Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted the limited-edition Hermès Birkin hanging on my shoulder. An idea struck me. I rushed to the nearest luxury consignment shop. Seeing how desperate I looked, the shop owner knew I needed fast cash and lowballed me, offering only ten thousand dollars. It had been a birthday gift from Ethan, a collector's piece that money could barely buy. But I had no choice. I sold it. Used to living on pennies, seeing that cash land in my PayPal finally gave me a sense of security. That very evening, the story blew up on Twitter: Billionaire Ethan Cross's Wife Caught Pawning Designer Handbag. The photo showed me handing the Birkin over the counter. Netizens mocked me, claiming I was a shopaholic drowning in debt, or that our marriage had collapsed and I was liquidating his assets to run away. Soon enough, Ethan called. His voice was laced with cold fury. "Are you really that broke? You're selling the birthday gift I gave you?" "No wonder Bianca told me you showed up at the office with a fake ultrasound asking for money." I tried to explain. He didn't give me the chance. "If you need cash, talk to Bianca. Why do you have to pull cheap lies like this?" His voice sounded exhausted, deeply disappointed. All the words caught in my throat. All that came out was, "Understood." I hung up, still unsure whether I could even keep the baby. A notification chimed. The ten thousand dollars from the bag sale, along with the money Chloe had lent me, had been entirely reversed and transferred out. A message from Bianca popped up on SnapChat: "Mr. Cross said you clearly have no self-control when it comes to spending. I will be holding these funds on your behalf."The next morning, everything of value in the penthouse was being hauled away. The custom Italian leather sofa, the smart appliances, even the potted orchids on the balcony. Bianca stood by the front door, ticking off items on a clipboard. "Check every single room. Don't leave anything behind, or who knows if she'll sell the roof right over Mr. Cross's head." I stood frozen in the hallway, powerless to stop them. Once they left, I looked around the hollow, echoing apartment and let out a broken laugh. A year ago, when Ethan brought me here, he had furnished every corner with his own hands. Back then, he had just paid off my deadbeat father's gambling debts and saved me from a pack of loan sharks. He had held my face and promised: "From now on, you're mine. You will never have to worry about money again." His vow had felt so warm, so genuine. I believed him. Now, I didn't know where it all went wrong. My phone pinged with a local job alert. A VIP lounge downtown was hiring night-shift servers at forty dollars an hour. If I worked secretly for a month, I'd have enough for the prenatal treatments. I went in for an interview. The manager liked my demeanor and hired me on the spot, telling me to start in three days. Walking out of the lounge, I pulled out my phone to text Chloe. Before I could type a single word, a wave of nausea hit me. The world spun, darkness rushed in, and I collapsed onto the pavement. When I opened my eyes, the smell of antiseptic filled my lungs. A nurse was adjusting an IV bag above my head. "You're suffering from acute malnutrition. This is an IV drip to stabilize you," she said gently. "I've never seen an expectant mother faint from pure starvation. Where is your husband? How can anyone be this negligent?" I gripped the rough hospital sheet, my voice flat. "I don't have a husband." Her eyes filled with deep sympathy. "The baby is innocent, sweetie. You can't starve yourself like this." I gave a faint nod. I had thought that once I got pregnant, I would at least be able to eat three meals a day. On the day I was discharged, I called Ethan three times. He rejected every single call. Defeated, I had to borrow money from Chloe to settle the hospital bill. She wired the money instantly. "You passed out and Ethan still won't step up for you two? Does he want lightning to strike him dead?" "I'm coming over there to tear him a new one!" "Chloe, wait," I pleaded. "Let me handle this myself." "I've made up my mind about the baby. I'll talk to him tonight." To my surprise, when I unlocked the front door, Ethan was there. Wearing an apron, he was carrying a dish out of the kitchen. Seeing me return, he barely looked up. "There wasn't a single scrap of food in this place. Is this how you usually live?" Before he could finish, the heavy smell of frying oil hit my nose. My stomach churned, and I dashed into the bathroom, dry-heaving violently over the toilet. Ethan followed, his brows furrowed. "What's wrong with you? Why do you look so pale?" He handed me a glass of water. "Since when did you become so delicate?" I rinsed my mouth, trying to steady my breathing. "Give me some money." The room went dead silent. Then, Ethan let out a harsh scoff. "So after all this drama, it's just about money?" "Those three missed calls today... was that just for cash, too?" I used the sink to pull myself up. "Yes." Ethan stared at me, his eyes chillingly cold. "You really never change. You'd do anything for a buck, wouldn't you?" He grabbed his leather jacket from the rack and headed for the door. Right before stepping out, he paused. "I'll have Bianca transfer you some." The door slammed shut behind him with a deafening bang. I don't know how long I stood there before I managed to drag myself to the dining table. There was a plate of BBQ ribs, my favorite. Now, just looking at it made me want to vomit. The next morning, I got a message from Bianca. "Natalie, don't get greedy. Constantly begging like this will only make Mr. Cross despise you." "Mr. Cross stated that if you ask for money one more time, your allowance next month will be cut in half." A notification followed: You received $20.00. I stared at the screen for a long, quiet moment, then hit accept. At least I could buy breakfast. This marriage, where I had to beg like a dog just to keep from starving, was suffocating the life out of me. After staring at the empty wall for an hour, I finally sent Ethan a text: Since you can't afford to keep me, let's get a divorce.That evening, I reported to the lounge for my first shift. After changing into the black-and-red uniform, I sat in the break room, chewing on a cold convenience store bagel. The shift manager walked in, holding up his phone to compare my face with the screen. "Hey, you look an awful lot like Mrs. Cross from the news. You aren't here pulling some undercover stunt, are you?" I waved my hand dismissively, taking another bite of the bagel. "You've got the wrong girl. I'm nobody's billionaire wife." He looked me up and down, taking in my cheap sneakers and tired eyes, and let out a chuckle. "Fair enough. Ethan Cross's wife wouldn't end up looking like a stray dog. Finish up and get to work." Since it was my first day, I was clumsy. The head server was walking me through the routine, but the lounge quickly flooded with high-profile guests. "Natalie! Take this bottle of Macallan to VIP Suite 8. Don't keep the client waiting!" I grabbed the tray and navigated nervously down the dim hallway. Drunk men occasionally whistled and tried to chat me up, but I kept my head down. At the end of the corridor, I found Suite 8. Just as I raised my hand to push the door open, I saw a painfully familiar figure lounging on the velvet sofa inside. Ethan Cross. He had clearly been drinking. For a man with an ironclad tolerance, his cheeks were flushed. He wore an unbuttoned black silk shirt, leaning back against the leather cushions, lazily lighting a cigarette. "Is three hundred thousand a month really too little for an allowance?" His friend on the sofa stared at him in disbelief. "Did I hear that right? Natalie burns through three hundred grand a month and it's still not enough?" I recognized the man. It was Lucas Cole, Ethan's college buddy. Ethan blew out a thin stream of smoke and hummed quietly. "I thought she grew up terrified of poverty because of her gambling father. I thought she'd be careful with money." "But Bianca told me she drains the account dry every month. High-end spas, private clubs, exclusive parties... she never stops." Lucas nearly jumped off the sofa. "Ethan, could she be bankrolling some pretty-boy gigolo behind your back? Damn, she looks so innocent, but she's wilding out!" Ethan glanced at him, his eyes narrowing as he crushed the cigarette into the crystal ashtray. "These past few days, she's gotten out of hand. She even claimed she's pregnant just to make Bianca wire her more cash." "Last night, she cried to me about being broke. I had another hundred grand sent over." He paused, throwing back the rest of his whiskey in one gulp. "And this morning? She texted me. Said if I can't afford to take care of her, we should get a divorce." Standing outside the door, every single word felt like a nail driven into my skull. If I hadn't seen my own bank statement showing eighty bucks a month, I would have believed his tragic story. If he wasn't sending it to me... who the hell was getting that money? Trembling with a rage so fierce it burned, I couldn't take it anymore. I kicked the door wide open. Ethan froze the second he saw me. "Natalie? What are you doing here?" Lucas turned pale and instinctively stood in front of Ethan. "Natalie, hey, calm down." Calm down? I had spent countless nights starving on eighty dollars while he thought he was pampering another woman with hundreds of thousands! I smashed the expensive bottle of whiskey onto the floor. Glass shattered, amber liquid splashing everywhere. Neither of them dared to move. I stepped forward and slapped Ethan across the face with everything I had left. "Tell me, Ethan Cross. Just how many wives are you keeping?!" Ethan's eyes turned red. He clenched his fists, grinding out each syllable: "Only you." My throat locked up. A cold laugh escaped my lips. "Then why the hell am I only getting eighty dollars a month?!"