Fourteen Dollars For My Dead Child

Three years into our corporate merger of a marriage, my husband casually suggested we open it up.

Maya, dont you ever wonder what its like with someone else?

I froze, then reached out to pinch his arm, thinking he was joking. Are you losing it? Why would I want that? Is what we have not enough for you?

"Im bored," Sebastian cut me off. His voice was flat, devoid of emotion.

Two words. They hit me like a physical blow. The smile died on my face.

"At the gala last month, someone slipped something into my drink. I ended up with a waitress," Sebastian continued. He toyed with a strand of my hair, a slow, predatory smirk spreading across his lips. "The transgression felt... good. It was a rush I haven't felt in years. Honestly, you should try it."

The blood drained from my face. I felt faint, the room spinning as I stared at the stranger sitting in my husbands skin. Sebastian looked at meat my trembling hands and pale cheeksbut the warmth didn't reach his eyes.

"Were moving to an open arrangement. You can find someone else, too." He paused, then added with a cruel tilt of his head, "If you cant find anyone on your own, I can always set you up with one of my associates."

Before I could find my voice to scream at him, he tossed a thick folder onto my lap. It was our prenuptial agreement.

"Don't forget your place, Maya. You sold yourself to me three years ago, remember?" He leaned in, his breath cold against my ear. "That price tag was high enough to buy your compliance for a lifetime. Act like it."

I clenched my fists until my nails drew blood from my palms. I wanted to scream that I wasn't a commodity, but the cold weight of the contract in my lap silenced me. I had no leverage. I had nothing.

Everything came to a head the day I was rushed to the clinic with a threatened miscarriage. I was standing at the pharmacy counter, clutching a prescription for the hormones meant to save the flickering life inside me, and I was exactly fourteen dollars short.

Fourteen dollars.

I called him, my voice shaking, pleading. His tone on the other end was pure vitriol.

"Didn't I pay your family's debts in full before the wedding? What, are you addicted to being a parasite now? Stop calling me for pocket change."

He hung up.

Later that night, I saw the headline on a blind-item gossip site. Sebastian Blackwood had just spent fourteen million dollars on a vintage Cartier necklace for his new flamea "celebration of her innocence," the caption hinted.

The nurse at the counter cleared her throat, her eyes filled with a pity that hurt worse than the cramping in my womb. "Ma'am? Do you want the medication or not?"

I looked at the price on the screen, then at my phone. I let out a jagged, hollow laugh and wiped a tear away with the back of my hand.

"Forget the medicine," I whispered, my heart finally breaking into pieces. "Can you... can you help me schedule the termination? I can't keep it."

A two-million-dollar marriage. It was time to close the books.

...

The moment I stepped out of the procedure room, my phone buzzed.

A bank notification. A deposit of exactly 0-04.00.

There was a memo attached to the wire: [Buy your pills. Stop embarrassing the Blackwood name.]

I stared at the screen, my mouth twisting into a grotesque smile. Fourteen dollars was enough to cover the copay for the medicine I no longer needed, but it wasn't nearly enough to cover the cost of the abortion Id just undergone to save myself from his legacy.

I knew Sebastian wouldn't give me another cent. He liked the power of withholding.

Swallowing my remaining pride, I reached out to a group chat of people I used to call friends. I needed $317the balance for the hospital fees. Added to the meager savings Id hidden away and Sebastians insulting fourteen dollars, it would be just enough to settle the bill for the "standard" procedure.

The replies came almost instantly.

[Wow, the Great Maya Vaughn is begging for scraps? Did you blow through that two million already?]

[Tsk tsk. If you hadn't held Sebastian up for a ransom during the engagement, he might actually care that you're broke. You reap what you sow, honey.]

The mockery flooded my screen, wave after wave of digital venom. But it didn't sting like it used to. I was numb.

I was used to Sebastian treating our marriage like a hostile takeover. I was used to being the "bought" woman, the mercenary bride. I was used to the whispers behind my back at country clubs and charity galas. I was used to the suffocating shame of having a wallet full of maxed-out cards, forced to beg him for every loaf of bread, every bottle of shampoo.

In the beginning, I thought I could work. I thought I could earn enough to pay him back the two million hed "loaned" my father to stop the foreclosure. I wanted my soul back.

But Sebastian had seen to it that every door was slammed in my face.

"I bought your life, Maya. Your time, your body, your freedomthey all belong to the Blackwood estate now."

He used money as a leash, punishing me for the fact that our "love" had a price tag. He hated me because he believed Id conned him for three years, only to reveal my "true colors" when my family went bankrupt.

I had tried to explain. I had tried to tell him that I had been desperate, that my father was suicidal, that I would have done anything to save them. He never listened.

"Save the sob story for someone who cares," hed say. "You asked for the money. You made the bed. Now lie in it."

My phone chimed again. Someone had sent me $371. The note read: [Consider this a tip for the entertainment. Watching you fall is worth every penny.]

I wiped the cold sweat from my forehead and looked at the nurse. "The bill is settled. Please... just get me on the table. I want this over with."

I couldn't afford the luxury of the "painless" sedation package. I had to lie there, fully conscious, on the frigid metal table. I felt every scrape of the instruments, every sharp, tearing sensation as the last tie between Sebastian and me was severed.

The pain was a physical manifestation of my liferaw, invasive, and cold.

As I gritted my teeth, a memory surfaced. Sebastian, years ago, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear. When were married, well have a house full of kids. Ill spend my life making sure you and our babies are safe.

But when the test had come back positive two weeks ago, hed looked at me with pure disgust. So, whats the rate this time? How much are you trying to squeeze out of me for a kid?

Nothing, Sebastian. I don't want anything from you anymore. Not your money, not your name, and certainly not your mercy.

When it was over, the silence of the room rushed back in. The nurse unstrapped my legs and helped me onto a recovery cot. I stared out the window at the Chicago skyline, the gray winter sky mirroring the void in my chest.

Suddenly, a streak of light shot up from the lakefront. A firework. Then another. Soon, the entire sky was blooming in brilliant, expensive shades of gold and violet.

The nurses huddled by the window, their voices hushed with awe.

"Did you see? Mr. Blackwood is putting on a show for his new girl. Must be nice to be loved like that."

"Is he still married? I heard his wife is some social climber who lives in the penthouse like a glorified servant."

I closed my eyes and let the tears fall silently.

I walked home. My body felt like it was made of lead, every step a jagged reminder of the surgery. An empty taxi pulled up beside me, the driver leaning out to ask if I needed a ride.

I shook my head, not looking at him. "No, thank you."

I couldn't afford the fare.

It was a ten-mile trek back to the Gold Coast. Along the way, people were still buzzing about the fireworks.

"It was like a dream," a young woman told her friend. "If a man did that for me, Id die happy."

Her friend laughed, glancing at me as I limped past, my face ghostly pale in the streetlights. "Yeah, but look at that woman. Some people have all the money in the world and still look like theyre walking to their own funeral."

I didn't look back. I wanted to tell them that Id had those fireworks once. Id had a man who promised to protect me.

On the night he proposed, hed knelt in the snow, a diamond the size of a marble in his hand. Maya, youre the only real thing in my world. Let me take care of you forever.

The fireworks that night had been even bigger.

But that was also the night my father had been standing on the edge of a bridge, and debt collectors were pounding on my mothers door, threatening my seven-year-old sister.

I had been backed into a corner.

Sebastian... please. I need two million dollars. My family...

Ill never forget how the warmth died in his eyes. He didn't even let me finish. He stood up, the romantic facade crumbling into a mask of pure, icy contempt.

They told me you were a gold digger. I didn't want to believe them. You really played the long game, didn't you, Maya? Waiting until the ring was out to show your hand.

Hed signaled the technicians to kill the lights. Hed pulled a checkbook from his tuxedo and scribbled the amount, tossing the paper at my feet.

Fine. Youre cheaper than I thought.

From that second on, the man I loved was dead. I was no longer a wife; I was a bad investment he was forced to manage. He made me a pariah in the city, the "Two-Million-Dollar Bride" everyone loved to hate. His housekeeper made six figures. I had to beg for three dollars to buy a coffee.

I had endured it, hoping hed eventually see the truth. Hoping his anger would burn out.

Until the night he brought Hailey home.

When I lost my mind and screamed at him, he just looked at me with bored indifference. He reminded me that hed bought our marriage, and that if he wanted to bring a hundred women into our bed, it was his right.

I had no words left.

I reached the penthouse at 1:00 AM, shivering from the lake breeze. The heat was humming inside, the scent of expensive candles filling the foyer. I just wanted to crawl into the guest room and disappear.

But a girlish laugh drifted from the living room.

"Oh, Mayas back! Did you get them? Did you get my macarons?"

I stared at Hailey, draped over Sebastian on the Italian leather sofa. "What macarons?"

"Don't play dumb," Sebastian snapped, his eyes raking over my disheveled appearance. "I texted you three hours ago. Hailey wanted Ladure. I told you to pick them up on your way back."

"My phone died," I said, my voice cracking. "And I don't have money for French cookies, Sebastian."

"Still with the money?" Sebastian stood up, pulling a hundred-dollar bill from his wallet and letting it flutter to the floor. "There. Is that enough? Go get them. Don't come back until you do."

"It's one in the morning," I whispered. "Everything is closed."

"Then find a place that's open. Or stay outside and think about how much that two million is really costing me."

He called for the security guarda man who used to look at me with respectand had me physically escorted out of my own home.

"Don't bother coming back without the macarons," Sebastians voice echoed through the closing door.

Then came Haileys giggle, and the sound of them moving toward the bedroom.

I sat on the cold concrete steps of the building's service entrance. The winter wind cut through my coat, chilling my blood. My heart, already fragile, finally went cold.

Hours later, the heavy door groaned open.

"Maya? What the hell are you doing? Are you trying to catch pneumonia?"

Sebastian was standing there, looking agitated. "Is this some kind of guilt trip? You think if you sit out here in the cold, Ill feel bad? Its just a box of cookies, for Christ's sake."

He reached down to grab my arm, but I was a dead weight.

"Where is the medicine you asked for earlier?" he demanded, looking around as if the pills would be sitting on the sidewalk. "You scammed me for fourteen dollars? Youre that pathetic now?"

Medicine? The baby was gone. The pills were irrelevant.

Before I could speak, Sebastian signaled his driver. "Get her inside. If she dies on the doorstep, itll be a PR nightmare."

I felt myself being carried, but I was drifting. It felt like a dream. Sebastian didn't care. He was just protecting his brand.

When I woke up in the guest room, Sebastian was hovering over me, his face a mask of fury.

"Finally awake? Nice performance. You really went all out for a box of macarons. Do you want the press to think Im abusing my 'poor' wife so you can sue for more? Is that the play?"

I tried to speak, but my throat was a desert.

"Get the doctor in here!" Sebastian barked toward the door. "Just don't let her die in this house."

A tear tracked through the dried salt on my cheek. "Sebastian," I rasped. "Lets get a divorce."

He laughed. A sharp, ugly sound. "Divorce? Sure. Give me back my two million dollars, and Ill sign whatever you want."

He paused, a cruel realization dawning on his face. "Oh, wait. I see what this is. You're pregnant, aren't you? You think a 'Blackwood Heir' is your ticket to a bigger settlement? How much do you want this time? Five million? Ten?"

The trauma of the last twenty-four hours finally broke the dam. "The baby is gone, Sebastian. There is no heir."

Before he could process my words, Haileys voice rang out from the hallway, followed by the sound of her retching.

The house doctor, who had just arrived, rushed past the guest room toward Hailey. After a few minutes of hushed conversation, the doctor stepped back into the hallway, looking at Sebastian with a tentative smile.

"Mr. Blackwood... it looks like congratulations are in order. Miss Hailey is pregnant."

The world didn't just break then. It disintegrated.

Hailey moved in permanently after the "good news."

At breakfast a week later, she mentioned a craving for organic bone broth from a specific butcher across town.

Sebastian didn't even look up from his tablet. "You heard her, Maya. Go get it."

I stared at my black coffee, ignoring him.

He smirked. "Oh, I forgot. You need an incentive. Shall we say... fifty thousand for every errand you run for the mother of my child? Does that suit your mercenary heart?"

"Deal," I said, putting my cup down.

Hailey pouted, her voice dripping with fake concern. "Sebastian, won't Maya be upset that you're paying her like... staff?"

Sebastian let out a cold snort. "Trust me. As long as theres a check at the end, shed sell her own soul. She doesn't have feelings, Hailey. Just an invoice."

He was right. I had a goal now. Two million dollars. I needed to buy my freedom.

I became Haileys shadow. I fetched her water, I rubbed her feet, I endured her tauntsall for a price. Thirty thousand for a foot rub. Fifty thousand to clean up her morning sickness.

Sometimes, Sebastian would make me sit in the corner of the room while they were intimate, just to humiliate me. Eighty thousand for that.

The first time, I felt like I was going to vomit. By the third time, I was a statue. I would even hand him a fresh protection when they finished, my face a mask of absolute nothingness.

Sebastians temper grew more volatile as I grew more silent. One night, he slapped a box of condoms out of my hand, his fingers bruising my jaw as he forced me to look at him.

"What is wrong with you? Have you no shame? Youre disgusting, Maya!"

I just stared into his eyes. "You're at 1.6 million, Sebastian. Only four hundred thousand to go."

It was the first snow of the year.

Hailey insisted on going to the Blackwood Peak observatory to see the snowfall. She said it was romantic, that if lovers watched the first snow together there, theyd never part. Sebastian, playing the doting father-to-be, agreed.

At dinner that night, Hailey gasped, clutching her throat. "Oh no! My necklace! The one you bought me, Sebastian... I must have left it at the observatory!"

She turned to me, a glint of pure malice in her eyes. "Maya, could you be a sweetheart and go get it? Its so special to me."

Sebastian watched me, waiting for my reaction.

Our new maid, a woman who hadn't been bullied into silence yet, spoke up. "Mr. Blackwood, the mountain roads are icing over. It's dangerous, and isn't the mistress... recovering from a flu?"

Sebastian ignored her. He looked at me, a challenge in his eyes. "Four hundred thousand dollars, Maya. One last trip, and youre even. Do you want it or not?"

"Ill go," I said.

The mountain road was treacherous. The car could only get me to the base.

"Hurry up, ma'am," the driver said, looking nervous. "If Miss Hailey gets upset, Mr. Blackwood will take it out on my paycheck."

I nodded and began the trek up the hiking trail.

The path was a sheet of black ice. Every step was a gamble. Two hours later, I reached the observation deck and found the necklace sitting prominently on a stone bench. The fourteen-million-dollar "innocence" prize.

I shoved it into my pocket and turned to head back down.

Then my foot slipped.

I went over the edge of the embankment, tumbling down the ravine. Jagged branches tore at my skin; stones bruised my ribs. I managed to snag a dead tree trunk, dangling over a sheer drop.

I screamed for help, but the wind swallowed my voice. I reached for my phone to call 911, but the battery was at 1%.

A notification popped upa bank transfer for $400,000.

A text followed: [Found it? Then get your ass back here.]

A single tear froze on my cheek. In the thirty seconds before the phone went black, I sent two photos to Sebastian.

One was a screenshot of the bank account showing exactly $2,000,000.

The other was the hospital bill for the abortion, dated the day of the fireworks.

[Were even, Sebastian. I don't owe you anything anymore.]

The phone died. I let go of the tree.