$3,000 Expense, $30 Million Reimbursement
It was his countdown. The number of months hed amuse himself with his new conquest.
He had a thirst for novelty, and three months was usually his limit.
But a year had passed since his last text.
The new girl, Minnie, had grown bold, spoiled by his prolonged attention. She had the audacity to show up at our estate, to challenge me. "Do you know what Alan loves about me?"
I stroked the Persian cat nestled in my lap, not even bothering to lift my eyes.
"He loves that I'm wild," she sneered. "You're so rigid, like a porcelain doll. No man wants that."
Her provocations were like water off a duck's back. I remained unmoved.
The next day, I had an old woman delivered to Alan's corporate headquarters. She was paralyzed, incontinent, and had been for years.
"Your secretary, Minnie, tells me you have a taste for the wild," I announced to the lobby, my voice carrying over the sudden hush.
"This woman has been marinating in her own filth for years. Is this wild enough for you, darling?"
...
The office erupted in a symphony of whispers and stifled laughter.
Alan's face was a mask of thunderous fury. "Get her out of here," he commanded, his voice a low growl.
His security team moved as if divinely ordained, rushing forward.
I stepped into their path. "I'm paying her three thousand a day. It seems a waste to send her home so soon, don't you think?"
Alan pulled out his phone and tapped the screen twice.
"I've sent you thirty million. You're Aurora Shawn. Stop worrying about petty cash."
A wave of gasps rippled through the onlookers.
"God, if I had a man that rich," someone muttered, "I wouldn't care if he cheated. He could have a dozen kids on the side, and I'd personally babysit for the mistress."
A cold smile touched my lips.
Whenever I showed the slightest displeasure, Alan threw money at the problem. I had always been happy to accept. After all, Id married him for two things: his fortune and his face, which was, admittedly, not unpleasant to look at.
His affairs were his own business, but a child was a line he could not cross. I scanned the crowd, not seeing the face I was looking for.
"Where's Minnie? If she hadn't enlightened me about your new tastes, I never would have known. I owe her my sincerest thanks."
"Minnie called in sick today," a voice from the crowd offered.
I smiled sweetly. "Then I'll be back tomorrow to thank her in person."
Alan's brow furrowed. He seized my wrist and pulled me toward his office.
This time, I didn't resist. In the world of adults, there's no need to burn every bridge. Poise, grace, and a gentle demeanorthese were among the reasons Alan had chosen me as his wife.
Inside his office, the door clicked shut. "Why are you escalating this?" he demanded, his face grim.
"Because Minnie is pregnant."
The words came out with a tremor I couldn't hide. I watched his face, a sour, acidic feeling churning in my gut.
Alan froze.
Clearly, this was news to him.
Instinct took over, and I couldn't resist a jab. "Your little canary is quite the schemer, isn't she? Managed to trap you with a child."
He took out his phone again, his thumb moving swiftly across the screen.
"I'll have her terminate it," he promised, his eyes fixed on me.
I pressed him. "How long?"
"A week."
"Three days."
"She's a delicate girl," he argued, a hint of genuine concern in his voice. "She'll need time to process it."
In his eyes, I was the easy one, the one who could be soothed with cash and a few soft words. My feelings were an afterthought.
Normally, I wouldn't have pushed him. But this was different. Minnie held a weight in his heart that the others never had.
My chest felt tight. I rose and walked toward him, straightening the collar of his suit. A small, pink brooch pinned to his lapel glittered, catching the light like a shard of glass in my eye.
He never wore such gaudy things.
It was true what they said. Love could change a man.
A thought flickered through my mind. Perhaps I, too, could find someone to play with. A distraction to burn off this suffocating negativity.
"The longer she waits, the more developed the embryo becomes. It's more traumatic. I'm thinking of Minnie's well-being," I said, my voice dangerously soft. "If you can't do it, I will. Husband."
"Don't you dare."
His grip on my wrist tightened, a clear threat. I had rarely seen him lose control like this.
I wrenched my hand free, my gentle facade crumbling away. "Then handle it. Cleanly. In three days. It's better for everyone," I threatened back. "Otherwise, I don't mind having a little blood on my hands."
Alan stared at me, seeing not the placid, obedient wife he was used to, but a flash of the wild, defiant woman I once was.
He had almost forgotten. Years ago, Aurora Sterling had been the most dazzling, dangerous rose in Manhattan's elite circles.
But then, tragedy struck. My mother and brother were gone, and my father handed the family fortune to his illegitimate son, leaving me with nothing. The change in me had been profound.
This glimpse of the old me... it was novel. Exciting, even.
Alan nodded, conceding. "Fine."
He had rules for his games. His women could be spirited, but on matters of importance, they had to obey. Minnie had crossed a line. It was time to deal with her.
I turned and walked out of his office without another word.
In the car, the driver asked my destination.
"Onyx."
He shot me a surprised look in the rearview mirror.
"I've seen it on Alan's credit card statements," I said, my voice flat. "I know what kind of place it is. Just drive."
We arrived at Onyx.
It was quiet in the daytime. A handsome server approached me immediately. "What can I get for you, ma'am?"
"A man."
He blinked, then a slick, practiced smile spread across his face. "How about me?"
My gaze drifted past him to a figure busy in the background. Even with his head down, wiping a table, I could see the clean, almost boyish line of his jaw. He looked innocent.
I pointed.
The server pouted. "Ma'am, he's just a college kid. He doesn't know the first thing. You should be with someone experienced. I'll take good care of you."
"I want him."
I have filth at home. When I come out to play, I want something clean.
"Ethan! A client for you."
The young man, Ethan, walked over. He hid the hand holding the cleaning rag behind his back and mumbled a polite, "Ma'am."
He stood there stiffly, like a student being disciplinedall shy, awkward innocence.
"Get a bottle of your most expensive wine. I'm buying. It'll go on your commission."
I held out my black card.
Ethan just stared at it, dumbfounded. The first server nudged him. "What are you waiting for? She's giving you a chance. Take it."
Ethan took the card and scurried off to the bar.
I idly picked up a book left on the table.
How to Capture a Man's Heart.
Before Ethan could return with the wine, my phone started buzzing relentlessly. Alan. He must have gotten the transaction alert.
I declined the call and powered the phone off.
A moment later, the driver's phone rang. He answered it nervously, putting it on speaker.
Alan's voice, cold as ice, filled the car. "Come home. Now."
A strange sense of exhilaration washed over me.
"Are you angry?" I purred into the phone. "Worried I might be unfaithful? Does infidelity bother you, Alan?"
Silence.
The book was open to a chapter on theatrics. A woman should act, it said. Turn one part love into ten. Play the victim, feign devotion.
A wicked idea took root. I decided to play the part.
"I wasn't going to do anything reckless," I began, my voice laced with a carefully constructed sorrow. "This is just your favorite place. I thought if I came here, I could learn what you like. And maybe maybe you'd like me a little more."
His tone softened instantly. "Aurora, come home."
I pressed on, weaving a web of half-truths and raw emotion. "No matter how wonderful those other women are please, don't forget about me. Promise me you won't."
In his car across town, Alan's throat tightened. He drove straight through a red light, his mind reeling. But his license plate, SHAWN 1, was a shield. No one dared to touch him.
"Ma'am, your wine."
Ethan's voice was like a bomb detonation in the quiet car. Over the phone, Alan's voice sharpened into a command. "You're a lightweight! Don't you dare drink!"
I lifted the glass of deep red liquid and drained it in one go. The "lightweight" persona was a sham, a calculated weakness Id adopted years ago so Alan wouldn't see me as a threat, so I could latch onto him and escape the abyss. In reality, I could drink a cellar dry and still walk a straight line.
Alan heard me swallow. "You drank it?"
"Mmmhmm."
The book said a state of pleasant intoxication was conducive to romance. I didn't need romance, but I did need a child. And once I had one, I'd have Alan sterilized. A permanent solution.
"Keep an eye on her," he barked at the driver before hanging up.
Ethan handed back my black card, his fingers warm.
I slipped it into my purse and settled onto the lounge sofa to wait.
Perhaps it was the wine, but looking at Ethan, he seemed particularly appealing. "Are you a virgin?" I asked casually.
His eyes widened in shock. He gave a shy, almost imperceptible nod. "Yes."
The door burst open with a violent crash. I slumped back, feigning drunkenness.
Alan's frantic footsteps echoed on the floor as he rushed to my side and swept me into his arms.
"I told you not to drink. Is this how the Lady of the Shawn estate should behave?" he chided, his voice tight with frustration.
I let the alcoholreal or imaginedloosen my tongue. "I want a child," I murmured against his chest. "I can give you one. You don't need Minnie."
He stopped dead in his tracks.
To appease his family, Alan would occasionally return to the estate to perform his husbandly duties. But my own broken family had always made me hesitate to bring a child into the world.
"We'll talk about this after I've dealt with the Minnie situation."
I didn't answer, pretending to have drifted off to sleep.
Alan brought me back to the estate, tucked me into bed, and left.
I immediately put the thirty million hed given me to work, launching a series of strategic attacks against my father's company. Under my relentless assault these past few years, his empire was already crumbling. But I wanted more than that. I wanted ruin. I wanted them to know what it felt like to have nothing.
The jagged lines on my trading screen mirrored the chaos in my heart.
Three days later, Alan returned.
He pulled me straight into the bedroom, his lips brushing against my ear. "Let's make a baby."
He didn't mention Minnie. I didn't ask.
I simply met his gaze and whispered, "Okay."
He was gentle, impossibly so, as if I were a porcelain doll he feared he might break.
But this time, I was different. I was the aggressor, my body winding around his. Minnie was right. No man wants a doll.
Alan was both shocked and thrilled. His restraint shattered, and he returned to his usual selfa storm of raw, unbridled passion.
Afterward, as I drifted in the hazy space between wakefulness and sleep, he carried me to the bath.
His long fingers traced the lines of my face, my eyebrows, the bridge of my nose.
The only sounds in the cavernous bathroom were our breathing and the frantic drumming of our hearts.
I was too exhausted to even open my eyes, a pliant weight in his arms as he carried me back to bed.
But I knew Alan too well.
Something was wrong.
And the reason was painfully obvious. The child in Minnie's womb was still alive.
He had broken his promise.
He didn't bring it up, so I pretended not to know. We would maintain the final, fragile dignity of our marriage.
Every day, I sent Alan the same text.
"Are you coming home tonight?"
And every day, the reply was the same: "Yes."
There's truth to the old saying about familiarity breeding affection.
Alan, who once despised the smell of cooking, who thought it clung to a person and made them seem cheap, began making me dinner.
He even started watching my favorite shows with me, wasting hours of his precious, thousand-dollar-an-hour time.
"I want to work at the company," I said one evening.
"Work is exhausting. Why not stay home and be pampered? Isn't it nice having people wait on you?"
He was refusing me.
I didn't argue. I just snuggled closer into his embrace. "You work so hard for our family, darling. Let me give you a gift."
Under his watchful gaze, I went to the bedroom and changed into a piece of lingerie Id bought.
When I returned, Alan's eyes darkened, a primal hunger flaring within them.
But then he stood, wrapped a blanket around my shoulders, and pulled me close. "You don't have to do this."
"I thought I thought this is what you liked," I said, my voice small and timid. "I just want you to be happy."
He knew. He knew I was still thinking about what Minnie had said.
A complex mix of emotions played across his face. He looked at my feigned innocence, this performance of purity, and his expression softened into something resembling pity. He stroked my cheek gently. "I like you any way you are. As long as it's you." He lifted me into his arms and carried me to the bedroom. "I'll set you up with a position tomorrow. You can work, but once you're pregnant, you're done."
I pressed a triumphant kiss to his lips and wrapped my arms around his neck. I had won. I was in.
Once inside the company, I pushed forward the project designed to annihilate my father's business.
Everyone said it was a suicide mission, a plan that would cost us dearly even in victory.
But Alan, like a king so besotted he'd sign away half his kingdom for a smile, signed the papers without a moment's hesitation.
To the outside world, that document was a testament to Alan's profound love for me. To me, it was the key that unlocked access to all his financial records.
I stared at the screen, at the river of money flowing to an account in the United States. And I saw Minnie's face.
Through the glass wall of his office, Alan watched me staring into space and smiled, a fond, indulgent look on his face.
His wife might not be good for much, but she was lovely to look at, like a cute little figurine on his desk.
A wave of exhaustion washed over me, deeper than simple fatigue. I went to the doctor.
The moment I held the positive pregnancy test in my hand, I booked a flight to the United States.
I sent Alan a text: "Going to see a friend for a week. Don't miss me too much."
He replied instantly. "I'll come with you."
He'd grown accustomed to having me around. My absence felt wrong to him now. Even my not being there during his lunch break today had unsettled him.
"No," I typed back. "It's a girls' reunion. No boys allowed."
Reading my message, a strange unease flickered in Alan's chest.
He immediately told his assistant to find out where I was going.
But he didn't know that I had already spoken to her.
"I'm planning a surprise for Alan," I'd said. "If he asks where I'm going, just say Aspen. Don't say anything else."
"Aspen."
The answer put Alan at ease. At least it wasn't the United States.
He sent one last text: "Be safe."
On the plane, I placed a hand on my stomach. "Mommy's going to clear the way for you."
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