The Paupers Test

The gala for my fathers seventieth birthday had just wound down.

Deep in the night, my phone buzzed frantically. It was my husband, Mark.

His voice crackled with panic on the other end. Max, something terrible has happened! Our lead investor just skipped town with all the money. I have to get out of the country, lie low for a while. Dont, under any circumstances, try to contact me!

In an instant, every trace of sleep vanished. I forced my voice to remain calm, telling him to be safe.

The moment I hung up, I didn't hesitate. I called the banks 24-hour hotline and froze every single card and account under my husbands name.

The irony was almost funny. The so-called lead investor who had supposedly vanished with our fortune was, at that very moment, passed out drunk in the room next to mine.

He was my father.

And I was very, very curious to see just how long he and my husband planned to keep up this elaborate "bankruptcy" charade.

I booked the first flight I could.

When I arrived at the luxury resort he was supposedly hiding out in, I found him at the entrance of a grand ballroom. He was dressed in a sharp tuxedo, and on his arm was my close friend, Jessica, glowing in a white wedding gown. They were greeting guests.

His eyes widened in panic when he saw me. He stumbled down the steps, rushing towards me.

"Max, let me explain. Jessica's father is critically ill. His dying wish is to see her married."

He grabbed my arm, his voice a desperate whisper. "I'm just acting, that's all. It's just a performance for her dad."

A bitter laugh escaped my lips. I yanked my arm free and slapped him hard across the face.

"A performance?" I spat, my voice dripping with ice. "Should I chip in for a wedding gift, then? Help you really sell it?"

The surrounding guests were already starting to whisper and point. Jessica, seeing the commotion, flushed with a mixture of shame and anger. Then, as if on cue, tears welled in her eyes, expertly casting her as the victim and me as the intruder.

"Miss Aston," she began, her voice trembling beautifully, "I know youve always been obsessed with Mark, to the point of developing delusions. I feel for you, I truly do. But this is my wedding day. Please, dont be so aggressive. You cant force someone to love you."

Mark nodded, playing along. "Whatever you have to say, we can talk about it at home after the ceremony. Be good, Max. Don't make a scene."

Even now, all he could think about was continuing with this sham of a wedding.

I laughed, a harsh, grating sound. My eyes scanned Jessica, and then I saw it, glittering around her neck.

It was my necklace. A one-of-a-kind emerald piece worth ten million dollars. The very one I had reported stolen months ago.

"No wonder you were paying her a fifty-thousand-dollar-a-month salary," I seethed, the pieces clicking into place with sickening clarity. "You two have been screwing around behind my back for God knows how long!"

"And my designer bags, my jewelry that went 'missing' you stole them all for her, didn't you?" I raked my gaze over Jessica with contempt. "One of you steals, the other one wears it. You're a match made in hell, you pair of scumbags."

The crowd erupted in a mix of gasps and laughter, phones already out and recording.

Jessica stomped her foot, her face a mask of fury. She fumbled in her purse and triumphantly produced a marriage certificate, shoving it in my face.

"Open your eyes and look! Mark and I are legally married!" she shrieked, pointing a trembling finger at me, high on her momentary victory. "She's sick in the head! She throws herself at any man who looks her way. My husband is just her latest obsession!"

The crowds murmurs shifted. A few men started looking me up and down with leering eyes, one of them letting out a low whistle.

"Hey, baby, you that desperate? The guy's married. My room's just upstairs if you need to scratch an itch"

One of them was bold enough to reach for my arm. I snatched a wine bottle from a nearby table and brandished it, making him recoil.

I pointed the jagged neck of the bottle at Mark, my voice low and dangerous. "I'm giving you one last chance. Me, or her. Who is your wife?"

Mark's gaze flickered, and his next words plunged a shard of ice into my heart.

"My only wife is Jessica," he said, his voice cold and final. "Now, you're going to apologize to her, or so help me, I will have you committed."

Jessica clung to Mark's arm, her face a picture of tearful gratitude, and shot me a look of pure triumph. "Darling, don't waste your breath on a psycho. She's not worth it."

Looking at their disgusting, triumphant faces, something inside me snapped. I raised the bottle, ready to bring it crashing down on them both. If I was going to hell, I was dragging them with me.

But Mark was faster. He kicked out, not at the bottle, but at me. As I stumbled, he lunged forward, stomping on the back of my hand with all his weight. His eyes were filled with a chilling malice.

"Jessica is my life," he snarled. "You hurt her, and I'll make you pay a hundred times over."

A sickening crack echoed in the ballroom.

A dull, throbbing agony shot up my arm, stealing my breath. Cold sweat beaded on my forehead.

Jessica, ever the actress, rushed to his side, tugging on his arm. "Mark, stop! It's our wedding day. If something bad happens, it'll be a terrible omen. Just just make her kneel and apologize. That's enough."

Mark nodded, his tone dripping with magnanimous condescension. "You hear that? Get on your knees and apologize. Do it now, or you're going straight to an asylum."

The loathing in his eyes was a physical blow. My heart felt like it had turned to stone. This was the man I'd given my youth to. My first love.

Seven years. Our seven years of history were nothing against the test of time.

I fumbled for my phone, my fingers clumsy and shaking. I opened my photo gallery and pulled up a picture of our marriage license, and a photo from our wedding day.

"This is proof we're married," I announced, my voice trembling with rage. "I'm reporting you for bigamy!"

In this country, bigamy was a serious crime. Prison time.

The crowds murmuring turned suspicious, their eyes darting between Mark and Jessica.

"That certificate she's showing is dated seven years ago. Were they lying?"

"If he's married to both, that's a felony! He should be locked up!"

Jessica just smirked at me, a cruel, triumphant gleam in her eyes. She leaned in close, her voice a venomous whisper.

"You still don't get it, do you? Your marriage certificate with Mark it's a fake."

"He promised me he would only ever truly love me. You were never worthy of legally being his wife."

For a moment, the world went silent. Then, a tidal wave of pure, unadulterated fury surged through me. My entire seven-year marriage, my devotion, my sacrifices it was all a joke.

I started to laugh, a broken, hysterical sound that quickly turned into sobs of despair. I stared at her, my vision blurred with tears of hatred.

I raised my good hand, not even sure what I intended to do, but before I could touch her, she let out a piercing shriek and threw herself backward onto the marble floor.

She clutched her stomach, her face contorted in agony.

"Mark! My stomach the baby our baby!"

Before I could even process the word "baby," a brutal slap sent my head snapping to the side. My ears rang, and the coppery taste of blood filled my mouth.

Mark scooped Jessica into his arms, his eyes burning with a hatred so intense it scorched me.

"Jessica is pregnant with my child," he roared. "If anything happens to that baby, I swear to God, I'll make you pay with your life!"

I tried to speak, but only a bitter taste coated my tongue.

He was the one who said he never wanted kids. A DINKdouble income, no kidslifestyle, that's what he'd preached. A child would only get in the way of "our life together."

I'd believed him.

Now I understood. It wasn't that he didn't want a child. He just didn't want a child with me.

Jessica let out a panicked cry. "Get me to a hospital! Please, I think I'm losing the baby!"

Without a second glance at me, Mark turned and ran, carrying his precious cargo out of the ballroom.

The world tilted, and darkness swallowed me whole.

When I woke up, the sterile white ceiling of a hospital room greeted me. An IV was taped to my arm, but it wasn't dripping fluid in. It was drawing blood out.

I tried to struggle, to sit up, but my body felt like lead.

Mark appeared at my bedside, looking down at my pathetic state with cold, detached eyes.

"Jessica's losing a lot of blood," he said flatly. "She needs a transfusion, and you're a match. Consider it your way of atoning for what you did."

A surge of adrenaline-fueled rage shot through me. "I didn't push her!" I screamed, my voice raw.

His hand clamped around my throat, squeezing. "I have waited seven years for this child," he hissed, his face inches from mine. "I will not allow anything to happen to Jessica or my baby. If they don't make it, I will burn you to ashes and scatter them to the wind."

He held on until spots danced in my vision, then released me. I fell back against the pillow, gasping for air, overwhelmed by a suffocating sense of helplessness.

The blood loss made me dizzy, and I drifted into a groggy sleep.

I was pulled back to consciousness by the sound of a voice. I cracked my eyes open to see Jessica on the phone, her back to me.

"Yes, everything is arranged with the asylum," she was saying. "The moment Max Wynton is stable, she's to be transferred. I want her locked away for the rest of her miserable life."

She noticed I was awake, ended the call, and walked over to my bed with a smirk. She poured a glass of water from the carafe on the nightstand. And then, she tipped it, sending a stream of scalding hot water onto my arm.

"This is what you get for crossing me," she sneered.

I cried out, my body convulsing from the searing pain. I bit my lip until it bled, glaring at her through a haze of agony.

"You faked it all," I rasped. "The fall, the miscarriage"

She laughed, a loud, ugly sound. "And what if I did? Mark only believes what I tell him." She placed a hand on her flat stomach, a cruel smile playing on her lips. "My baby could have been perfectly healthy. Such a shame I had that 'accidental' fall a few weeks ago that took care of it. Mark was so excited about being a father I just had to find someone to blame, didn't I?"

I trembled with a rage so profound it felt like it would tear me apart. "You're a monster."

Her smile widened. "And once you're gone, all your assets will become mine."

A cold dread washed over me. She wasn't just planning to lock me away. She was planning to make sure I never left this hospital alive.

Using every last ounce of strength I possessed, I ripped the IV from my arm, scrambled out of bed, and shoved her aside. I had to escape.

But my body betrayed me. I was too weak. After only a few steps, my legs gave out and I collapsed in the hallway.

Jessica followed at a leisurely pace, giving my side a contemptuous kick. Seeing that I couldn't even get up, she laughed.

"Go on, run. I thought you were so tough." Her eyes glinted with a sadistic light. "You know, just getting rid of you would be too boring. Let's play a little game."

"I hear there's a derelict part of town not too far from here. Full of desperate men. How about we drop you off there?"

I recoiled in horror, scrambling backward. "You can't do this. My father is"

Before I could finish, she grabbed a fistful of my hair, yanking my head back and slapping me twice, hard.

"Your family? A bunch of ungrateful leeches!" she spat. "Every time Mark brought them gifts, they looked down on him. If it weren't for Mark supporting your family all these years, do you think you could have lived the life of a wealthy housewife?"

My heart sank. The lie was so audacious it was almost brilliant.

Mark was a broke nobody when I met him. I used my own savings to fund his first start-up. My family never approved of him, which is why he barely had any contact with them. The few times he did visit, he brought a cheap basket of fruit. And "supporting" them was a joke. Without my father secretly investing millions into his company, he never would have gone public in seven years.

Her bodyguards dragged me out of the hospital and threw me into a car. We drove to the city's dark, forgotten underbelly and they dumped me in a filthy alley.

She pulled out her phone and addressed the group of gaunt, hollow-eyed men who were already gathering, drawn by the commotion.

"Whoever shows her the best time," she announced, her voice echoing in the grimy space, "gets half a million dollars."

Instantly, four or five of them closed in, a predatory hunger in their eyes that made my stomach churn. I grabbed a loose brick, ready to defend myself.

"You will regret this!" I screamed at her.

She was unfazed. She even started a video call with Mark. My terrified, dishevelled image on the screen made him roar with laughter.

"Jessica, you're too soft," his voice tinny through the phone's speaker. "She killed our baby. She should be rotting in a prison cell."

Jessica sighed dramatically. "But she was with you for a time, Mark. I want to build up some good karma for our future children. She's just so stubborn. If she had just knelt and begged for forgiveness, I wouldn't have had to do this."

Mark scoffed. "She's a vindictive bitch. I've had enough of her. You know, Jessica, we'll have to redo our wedding, but I promise you, this time, it will be the most extrMaxgant event this city has ever seen."

They talked as if I wasn't even there, as if my life wasn't about to be destroyed. Any last flicker of hope I had for the man I once loved died in that filthy alley.

After hanging up, Jessica turned to the vagrants. "What are you waiting for? Get to it! If you don't, you won't see a single penny!"

With a primal scream, I surged forward, crashing into Jessica and knocking her to the ground. I threw all my weight on top of her, my hands finding her throat and squeezing.

"If I die, I'm taking you with me!" I shrieked.

For the first time, I saw real fear in her eyes. She clawed at my hands, choking and gasping for help.

Suddenly, Mark's furious roar cut through the air. "Max, you're dead!"

He must have rushed over after the call. He snatched a heavy rock from the ground and brought it down on the back of my head. The world exploded in a flash of white-hot pain as he kicked me off of Jessica.

It took a long moment for my vision to clear. When it did, I saw Mark glaring at me with pure, unadulterated hatred.

"It wasn't enough for you to kill our child, you had to try and kill her too," he seethed. "This time, I won't be lenient."

He barked an order at his bodyguards. "Go get more of them. And call the local news stations. Tell them we've got a scoop. By the end of today, Max Wynton's name will be synonymous with filth!"

Ignoring the blinding pain in my head, I tried to crawl away, to escape, but the bodyguards were on me in a second. They dragged me back, forcing me to my knees in front of Mark and Jessica.

Mark fussed over Jessica, gently brushing dust from her dress with a sanitized wipe, his touch full of tenderness. He wouldn't even look at me.

"Don't worry, my love," he murmured to her. "I'll get your revenge for you right now."

Jessica, her eyes brimming with tears, clutched his hand and shook her head weakly. "I don't blame her. As long as I can be with you, I'll endure any hardship."

I spat at her feet. "How many men have you pulled that routine on? How many backup plans do you have lined up after Mark?" I'd seen her getting cozy with other men at his office before; I'd just been too blind and trusting to see it for what it was.

Her act shattered. The tears became real, streaming down her face in angry torrents. "Mark, she's humiliating me! I can't live like this!" she wailed, turning as if to smash her head against the nearby brick wall.

Mark caught her, holding her tight, his face a thundercloud of fury directed at me.

"I've been too good to you," he snarled. "You can live out the rest of your pathetic life in this gutter." He gestured to his men. "Break her arms and legs."

Panic seized me. I thrashed against their grip. "Mark, you'll pay for this! As long as there is breath in my body, I will never let you get away with this!"

He let out a cold, dismissive laugh. "Oh, I'm waiting. I remember that old college flame of yours, the one who's still single, waiting for you. I can't wait to see the look on his face when he sees the video of the great campus beauty, Max Wynton, begging for mercy under a pile of hobos. He probably won't be able to eat for a week."

I couldn't believe it. To appease Jessica, he was willing to utterly and completely destroy me.

My joints were brutally dislocated. The physical agony was immense, but it was nothing compared to the searing pain in my soul. Tears streamed down my face, hitting the grimy pavement as memories of our seven years together flashed through my mind. The sweeter the memory, the more bitter the irony now.

I was a broken puppet, paralyzed on the ground, my eyes locked on Mark, burning with a helpless, venomous rage. He held Jessica, gazing down at my ruined form as if I were an insect.

The circle of men closed in, the stench of unwashed bodies and cheap liquor overwhelming me. Their greedy, lecherous stares made me want to vomit. My tears of terror only seemed to excite them more.

Jessica burrowed into Mark's chest, her voice a sickly sweet murmur. "Mark, I can't watch. It's too scary."

He covered her eyes with his hand, his voice a gentle caress. "I'll watch for you, my love. I'll watch her get the punishment she deserves. She could never compare to you, to your purity and kindness."

My heart shattered into a million pieces.

I gritted my teeth, trying to writhe away like a worm, to escape their grasping hands. But they cornered me, my back against the cold, damp brick wall. There was nowhere left to run.

As they lunged, I squeezed my eyes shut.

I'd rather die than suffer this humiliation.

I was about to bite down on my own tongue, to end it all, when the piercing wail of sirens sliced through the night.

Seven, eight police cruisers swarmed the alley, their lights painting the scene in strobing flashes of red and blue.

In the middle of them all, a black Rolls-Royce, the kind that whispers of old money and untouchable power, glided to a silent stop.