After My Husband Gave Our Fortune to His Mistress

The numbers on my monitor ticked upward in a dizzying blur, a neon-green cascade that should have felt like victory. *Fifteen million dollars.* In one week.

My fingers hovered over the keyboard, trembling slightly. This was *Aetheria*. My code. My architecture. The culmination of three years of sleepless nights, caffeine overdoses, and missed birthdays. I sat in the cramped, windowless storage closet Maddox graciously called my "home office," listening to the hum of the server cooling fans. That sound was the heartbeat of our future—or so I’d let myself believe.

I checked the time. 7:00 PM. The dividend transfer was scheduled for five minutes ago.

I needed exactly forty-five thousand dollars for the deposit on Charlie’s surgery. Just a fraction of what *Aetheria* had earned today alone. I clicked refresh on our joint account.

*Access Denied.*

A cold stone dropped into the pit of my stomach. I tried again. *User privileges revoked.*

I pushed away from the desk, the wheels of my cheap chair catching on the worn carpet, and sprinted down the hallway to Maddox’s study. The door was ajar. The scent of aged scotch and expensive leather drifted out—smells that didn't belong in the same house as my instant ramen dinners.

Maddox was lounging in his Eames chair, a crystal tumbler catching the light. He didn’t look up when I entered. He was too busy admiring the tablet in his lap.

"Maddox," I said, my voice tighter than I intended. "The bank account. I can't get in. The dividends should have cleared."

He finally looked at me. His eyes, usually a charming hazel, looked flat and shark-like in the dim light. He took a slow sip of scotch. "They cleared perfectly, Evelyn. The distribution protocol worked without a hitch."

"Then why can't I access the funds? Charlie's deposit is due tomorrow morning."

He chuckled, a dry sound that scraped against my nerves. He turned the tablet around. "I made an executive decision. The board felt the bonus pool should go to those who truly manage the company's image."

I squinted at the screen. One transaction. Fifteen million dollars.

Recipient: *Margot Daniels.*

The air left the room. "Margot? Your assistant? She orders your lunch, Maddox. I wrote the physics engine."

"She manages my stress," he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous calm. "She is vital to this company's survival. You? You're just the backend support. And frankly, your code was buggy."

"Buggy?" I stepped forward, rage heating the back of my neck. "It’s generating two million dollars a day!"

He swiped the screen and tossed the tablet onto the rug at my feet. "Check your personal game account. I didn't leave you empty-handed."

I picked it up. My *Aetheria* admin account was open. Balance: *3,000 Credits.*

Virtual currency. Worth absolutely zero in the real world.

"Are you insane?" I whispered. "I can't pay a surgeon in loot box credits!"

"You're lucky to have a roof over your head, Evelyn," he snapped, his facade of calm cracking. "Now get out. I have a gala to prepare for."

Before I could scream, my phone buzzed in my pocket. *Dr. Rebecca Chen.*

I answered, turning my back on him. "Dr. Chen?"

"Evelyn, listen to me." The doctor's voice was urgent, stripping away her usual professional distance. "Charlie went into cardiac arrest ten minutes ago. We stabilized him, but his heart is failing faster than we anticipated. A donor heart just became available in Portland, but the transport team needs the deposit *tonight*. By midnight. Or the heart goes to the next patient."

The floor seemed to tilt. "Tonight? But... the bank..."

"Three thousand dollars, Evelyn. Cash or certified check. Immediately. I can't hold the organ procurement team off forever."

I hung up, my hands shaking so hard I nearly dropped the phone. I spun around. Maddox was watching me, a cruel smirk playing on his lips. He had heard every word.

"Three thousand," I choked out. "I need three thousand dollars. Right now. For Charlie."

Maddox checked his Rolex. "I'm leaving for the victory gala at the Grand Seattle. If you want the money, come get it."

"Just write the check, Maddox! He’s dying!"

"And dress appropriately," he said, standing up and brushing past me. "You look like a beggar. Might as well look the part if you're going to act like one."

***

The Grand Seattle Hotel was a fortress of gold light and glass. I arrived in my worn beige raincoat, the hem mud-splattered from the run to the bus stop. The doorman looked ready to toss me into the street until I flashed my developer ID—the only thing Maddox hadn't stripped from me yet.

The ballroom was a sea of black tie and silk. The air smelled of champagne and expensive perfume. I spotted them instantly. Maddox stood near the ice sculpture, holding court with three potential investors. Draped over his arm was Margot.

She was wearing a shimmering emerald gown that cost more than my brother’s life.

I cut through the crowd, ignoring the whispers. I didn't care about their stares. I only cared about the clock ticking down to midnight.

"Maddox," I said, breathless.

The conversation circle died. Maddox turned slowly, feigning surprise. "Well. Look who decided to join us."

Margot giggled, sipping her champagne. "Oh, honey. Did you lose your invitation? Or your mirror?"

"The check," I said, holding out a trembling hand. "Please. Just give me the check."

Maddox raised a hand, signaling the DJ. The music cut out. The silence in the ballroom was sudden and suffocating. Hundreds of eyes turned toward us.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Maddox announced, his voice booming. "My estranged wife has come to celebrate with us. Though it seems she's confused the gala for a charity drive."

Laughter rippled through the room. My face burned.

"I don't want charity," I said, my voice shaking. "I want my money. The money I earned."

Maddox reached into his tuxedo pocket and pulled out a check. He waved it in the air. "Three thousand dollars. A pittance, really. But Margot tells me her feet are hurting."

He looked down at Margot's shoes—strappy, diamond-encrusted heels.

"There's a spot of mud on Ms. Daniels' shoe," Maddox said loudly. "Must have happened when we stepped out of the limo. It's terribly unsightly."

He held the check just out of my reach.

"Clean it off, Evelyn. On your knees. And the money is yours."

The room went deadly silent. I looked at Maddox, searching for a shred of the man I married. There was nothing there but malice. I looked at Margot, who had pulled out her phone. The screen showed a livestream interface. She was broadcasting.

*Charlie.* I saw his pale face in the hospital bed. I heard the monitor flatlining.

I had no pride left to lose. Only a brother to save.

I sank to my knees on the cold marble floor.

A collective gasp went through the crowd. I reached into my pocket, pulled out a tissue, and reached for Margot’s shoe. The leather was pristine. There was no mud.

"Make it shine," Margot whispered, leaning down so only I could hear, the camera phone inches from my face.

I wiped the invisible dirt. My vision blurred with hot, stinging tears.

"Good girl," Maddox sneered. He crumpled the check into a ball and tossed it over my head. It skittered across the floor.

I scrambled after it on my hands and knees, snatching the paper before a waiter could step on it.

"Get out," Maddox barked. "You're ruining the vibe."

Clutching the check to my chest, I ran. I burst through the heavy double doors, the sound of their laughter chasing me into the rainy Seattle night. They thought they had broken me. They thought this was the end.

They were wrong.