Million Dollar Mistress Ten Cent Wife

The day my fathers heart finally started to fail, I sold the diamond pav necklace Nate had given me as a wedding gift. I needed thirty thousand dollars for the emergency surgery, and I needed it by morning.

The next day, Nate found out. He bought the necklace back, walked into our penthouse, and threw it at my face. It hit my cheek with a cold, metallic sting.

"Gold digger," he whispered, a sharp, effortless smirk playing on his lips. "I knew youd show your true colors eventually."

From that day on, the rotation of girls in Nates life changed weekly. He didn't hide them; he flaunted them. Every time he spent a small fortune on another womana Birkin, a trip to the Maldives, a Cartier watchhed send me a screenshot of the receipt.

Then, hed Venmo me exactly ten cents.

Shes young, shes vibrant, and shes worth the millions I spend on her, his messages would read. As for you? This is your market value.

I endured it all until the night my fathers condition spiraled again. He needed eighty thousand dollars for a life-saving procedure.

I swallowed the last of my pride and went to the club where Nate was holding court. I found him with his arm around his latest plaything, his eyes cold and distant. When I begged him for the money, he didn't even look up. Instead, he used the toe of his bespoke Italian loafers to tap a bottle of high-proof bourbon on the table.

"Back for more, Rebecca? Fine. You want the cash? Earn it."

He leaned back, his eyes narrowing. "Ten thousand dollars a glass. You thirsty?"

I stared at him, my heart breaking in the middle of that neon-lit room. I could feel the mocking stares of his friends, the silent judgment of the waitresses. But I thought of my father in that sterile hospital bed. I reached for the glass.

The first shot burned like liquid fire. By the fourth, my stomach was a knot of agony. By the eighth, I had to bite my tongue until it bled just to stay upright.

As I drained the final glass, my phone vibrated in my pocket.

It was the hospital.

They told me that because the treatment hadnt started in time, my father was gone.

...

By the time I reached the hospital, they had already moved him.

In the morgue, the air felt like it was made of lead. I pulled back the white sheet, my hands shaking so violently I could barely grip the fabric. My father looked so small. The illness had carved him down to nothing but bone and pale, translucent skin.

My tears fell onto his face, and I tried to brush them away, but my hands were clumsy, useless. The grief Id been suppressing all night finally shattered. I collapsed onto the freezing linoleum floor, clutching his hand, and let out a sound that didn't even feel human.

"Dad... please. Don't leave me alone in this. Not like this."

The hospital staff, weathered by a thousand deaths, waited until I was hollowed out, until my eyes were dry and my throat was raw. Then, a nurse handed me a clipboard.

"Mrs. Beckett, Im so sorry for your loss," she said softly. "This is the final statement for your fathers care. You can settle it at the billing office on the first floor."

I took the paper with numb fingers. $35,659.

I opened my banking app. My balance was forty-three dollars. Not even enough for the tip on the Uber ride here.

I was rehearsing a plea in my head, wondering how to ask a hospital for a payment plan for a dead man, when a notification popped up.

Nate had sent a transfer. Exactly $80,000. The "blood money" I had literally poisoned myself for tonight.

It was useless now.

A second later, his text arrived.

[See? I knew you were faking that stomach condition. You can certainly hold your liquor when there's a check on the line.]

[Honestly, Rebecca, is there anything you won't do for a dollar?]

This was my life now. Ever since he decided Id married him for the Beckett name and the trust fund, the humiliation was a daily ritual. The world saw me as the ultimate social climberthe girl who traded her soul for a penthouse in the city.

But it was Nate who had begged me to marry him. It was Nate who asked me to quit my career in architectural design to stay home and care for his ailing mother when she was sick. I had never asked him for a dime. I used my own savings for the groceries, for the utilities, for everything.

When my father first got sick, Nate was away on a business trip in a dead zone. I couldn't reach him. My savings were gone, drained by the specialists and the mounting bills. Selling that necklace was my last resort, my only way to save my father.

But that one act of desperation had broken the spine of our marriage. It made me a "gold digger" in his eyes, and he refused to hear a single word of explanation.

[You want money? Just say it. Don't lie about your fathers life, hed said back then, his face twisted in disgust. You want to get paid, Rebecca? Then start acting like an employee.]

Now, standing in the hospital corridor, the bourbon finally caught up with me. My stomach revolted. I barely made it to a trash can before I was retching, the acid searing my throat. It was nothing compared to the pain in my chest.

I wiped my mouth and turned off my phone.

In the billing line, two women in front of me were whispering. They smelled of expensive perfume and cigaretteslikely regulars at the clubs Nate frequented. They were watching a video on a phone.

I recognized the man instantly. It was Nate.

He was at a table covered in bottles that cost more than my car. He was looking at a young girlmaybe twenty-twowith a look of pure, indulgent adoration. He was laughing as she poured a vintage bottle of champagne over her hands just to "wash" them.

"God, Nate is so obsessed with Amber," one of the women sighed. "He bought her eighty-eight bottles of Louis XIII tonight. If hes this generous now, imagine when theyre married."

"He has to get rid of that poor-trash wife first," the other replied. "I heard shes a total leech. Shell never sign the papers; shed rather die than lose the paycheck."

I walked out of the hospital at 3:00 AM. The early winter wind cut through my coat like a serrated blade. Holding my fathers death certificate, I felt a sudden, terrifying sense of vertigo. I had no idea where to go.

Since the necklace incident, Nate had restricted me to a "stipend" of two thousand dollars a month for the entire household. To pay for my fathers extra care, Id been driving for a ride-share app twelve hours a day. My legs would be so heavy by the end of a shift I could barely walk.

I hadnt minded the work. I just wanted my father to have a little more time. I just wanted Nate to listen to me for five minutes.

I remembered how he used to defend me. When we first got engaged, people whispered that I was "punching above my weight." Nate would get red-faced and furious, telling them he was the lucky one, that it took him a year to convince me to even go out with him.

Now?

"They were right about you," hed sneered the first time he brought a woman home. "Youre just a sophisticated grifter. I can't believe I didn't see the con earlier."

When I finally snapped and screamed at him, hed slapped me. He told me Id already sold our love for thirty thousand dollars. He told me he was paying two thousand a month for a "cheap maid," so what right did I have to be angry?

I couldn't understand how the man who once promised me the world had become the man who wanted to destroy mine.

But as I stood on the sidewalk, the realization finally clicked. It didn't matter why he changed. It only mattered that he was gone. There was nothing left to save.

I reached for my phone to call him and tell him I wanted a divorce, but he beat me to it.

"Five thousand dollars," he said as soon as I picked up. "Im at 88 Longwood. Amber and I need a ride to the hotel. Be here in fifteen minutes. Every minute you're late, I dock a grand."

He hung up before I could breathe.

I closed my eyes and forced the bile down. Fine. Some things are better said in person.

When I arrived at the address, he was standing on the curb with a group of friends, all of them polished and glowing with expensive liquor. He checked his watch and tutted.

"Two minutes late. That's two thousand off your fee."

Before I could tell him Id been drinking and shouldn't be driving, the group erupted in laughter.

"Careful, Nate! Shes going to have a heart attack over two grand!" one guy shouted.

"Hey, Nates just being a gentleman," another chimed in. "The hotel is only two blocks away, but he doesn't want Ambers feet to hurt."

The girlAmberstepped forward. She had been with Nate for a month now, a record for his post-necklace phase. She looked at me with a performative, sugary pity.

"Rebecca, honey, Im so sorry to drag you out so late." She pulled twenty Benjamin Franklins out of her designer clutch, counting them slowly. "Nate and I realized were out of... protection. Could you be a doll and run to the pharmacy? Get the ultra-thin ones, Nate doesn't like the other kind. You can keep the change as a tip."

She held the money out, but just as I reached for it, she flinched like shed touched something filthy. The bills fluttered to the wet pavement.

"Oops. My germaphobia is acting up. Do you mind picking those up yourself?"

I looked at Nate, my teeth gritted so hard I thought they might shatter.

He just arched an eyebrow. "Is that not enough? I thought your dad was dying and you were desperate. Go get the condoms, Rebecca, and Ill throw in another twenty thousand. Deal?"

He shouldn't have mentioned my father. Not tonight. Not with that smirk.

"What's the matter?" he mocked. "Grown a conscience all of a sudden? Or is the price just going up?"

He saw my fists trembling at my sides and his expression went cold. "You want to hit me? Go ahead. But don't forget whos paying for your fathers ICU bed. You lay a hand on me, and hes out on the street by morning."

Every word was an arrow. Sharp, poisoned, hitting every vital organ. I felt the blood in my chest, the metaphorical skin and hair being ripped away. Amber and her friends were giggling, watching Nate treat me like a stray dog.

A sudden, violent cramp seized my stomach. Before I could say a word, I felt the warm, metallic rush in my throat. I couldn't stop it.

I coughed, and a spray of bright, crimson blood splattered across the front of Nates white dress shirt.

The world went silent.

I bit the inside of my cheek, trying to stay upright, trying to cling to the last shred of my dignity. But the ground began to tilt. As the darkness rushed in, I thought I heard a voicesharp, panicked, and stripped of all its crueltyshouting a name I hadn't heard him use in a year.

"Rebecca!"