I bit my lip, still wanting to say something, but he clicked his tongue, impatient.

"If you've got anything else, say it all now."

I shook my head in silence and turned to go.

The instant the door closed, I heard a girl's bright voice come through his phone.

"Your wife's asking for a divorce! Aren't you going to go smooth things over?"

Otto answered flatly.

"I wouldn't lend her the money, so she's sulking. That's all."

"She won't actually divorce me."

I stood outside the door, and a cold settled over my chest.

From the day I got pregnant, Otto had made me quit my job.

It was only because his sperm count was low that we'd managed to have this baby at all, and nothing could be allowed to go wrong.

He said he earned money to provide for me and the baby, so I could rest and carry the pregnancy with peace of mind.

I quit my job, going from the youngest partner at a law firm, a graduate of a top school,

to Mrs. Gilbert, who waited in the mansion every day for her husband to come home.

But I soon learned that "never short on money" never once meant I was allowed to spend it.

When I bought prenatal vitamins, I had to send the link to Vivien.

When I added a single nightgown, I had to ask Vivien first whether it was appropriate.

When I went to the hospital for checkups, I had to keep even the cab receipts and wait for them all to be reimbursed at the end of the month.

Once, I only wanted to buy my mother a scarf, and Vivien turned right around and reported it to Otto.

That night, he sat across the dining table, his tone as flat as if he were scolding a child who didn't know any better.

"Deidre, I had you quit so you could rest and carry the baby, not so you could learn from those small-minded people who marry in and then scheme every way they can to claw money out of my hands."

I rushed to explain.

"I didn't. That day was my mom's sixtieth birthday. You'd promised to come back with me to celebrate, but you had something come up, so I bought a scarf in your place—"

Otto's face went cold.

"In my place?"

"Deidre, don't go using my name to curry favor with your family."

"Today it's a scarf. Tomorrow will you have me buying them a house, a car?"

"Since you've married into the Gilbert family, you should keep your distance from your old family. Better to cut it off clean now, before they drag you down, and me with you."

That was the first time the thought of divorce stirred in me.

But the next day, when Otto came home, he carried an elegant gift box.

He wrapped his arms around me from behind, his voice low and rough.

"Deidre, I'm sorry."

"I spoke too harshly yesterday."

"It's just that I've seen too many women throw themselves at me for money."

"Leah swore up and down she loved me too, back then, and in the end she dumped me for better prospects."

"She made me feel like there's hardly anyone in this world who truly loves me, the person. So the moment you bring up money, I overreact."

He buried his face in my shoulder, as though he really were worn down to the bone.

The hurt in my heart suddenly turned into aching tenderness for him.

After that, I lived carefully by his rules, trying to prove that what I loved was him, not his money.

But later, while washing his clothes, I found a shopping receipt in the pocket of his coat.

It listed the date Leah was returning to the country.

It also listed the diamond bracelet he'd given her, worth seven figures.

And under that gift box he'd given me, tucked beneath it, was a promotional card.

Free with any qualifying purchase.

I stood in the laundry room a long time, holding that flimsy little card.

That sincerity I'd been killing myself to prove, in his eyes, had been worth nothing from start to finish.

The second time I thought about divorce came in that very moment.

That night, my emotions had churned too hard, and in the middle of the night a pain gripped my belly, cold sweat breaking out layer after layer.

Otto rushed into the bedroom with the color drained from his face, scooped me up, and ran for the hospital.

The doctor said my condition was dangerous and that the pregnancy needed to be stabilized immediately.

Otto stood outside the emergency room and, for the first time, lost every shred of his composure.

"I don't want to save the baby! Save the mother! Did you hear me?! I said save the mother!!"

When I woke, he was sitting at the edge of the hospital bed, his eyes bloodshot, his arm still wrapped in bandages.

Vivien whispered to me that on the way to the hospital, the car had nearly collided with a delivery truck.

It was Otto who had thrown himself over me to shield me, his arm cut deep by the shattered glass, more than a dozen stitches.

And he hadn't even waited for the anesthetic to take hold before running back to the room to watch over me.

I shrank away from the arm reaching to hold me and asked softly,

"Otto, what exactly do you mean by all this?"

Otto looked at me with reddened eyes.

"All because of one gift, you're going to put us through all this. Is that it?"

"Leah just got back to the country. That gift was nothing more than common courtesy."

"You only saw a seven-figure necklace, but you didn't see that every single thing in this house, all of it, I bought for you and the baby."

"You couldn't sleep well, so I had a mattress custom-made for you."

"You couldn't stand the smell of cooking oil, so I came home right after work to make you soup."

"I painted the nursery with my own hands. I made the furniture for our child with my own hands."

"I've worked to be a good husband, a good father, and never imagined that in your eyes, none of it could measure up to one necklace."

He pressed a hand over his wound, looking at me with disappointment.

"Deidre, I can give you so much love. I'd give up my own life for you and the baby."

"But I can't give you money. I don't want money mixed into what we have."

After that, he started a cold war with me.

Whatever I said, he acted as if he hadn't heard it.

Every night he claimed he had to work late, and he slept in a separate room from me.

He even went out of his way to needle me, saying I claimed to love him with my mouth while my heart only cared about his money,

just waiting for me to back down, explain, and apologize.

But with Leah he grew closer and closer, joining her for dinners, taking her to gallery openings, throwing money around to make her happy.

Vivien tried to reason with me.

"Ma'am, the master is only sulking. He loves you so much. The money may not be in your hands, but isn't all of it spent on you and the baby?"

"If I were you, I'd hurry and apologize, and promise never to fight with him over money again."

I opened my mouth, but my chest was knotted tight with misery.

I asked myself,

"Deidre, is that necklace really so important?"

I looked at the floor scattered with the baby toys he'd carved by hand and the nursery he'd painted himself,

and for one moment, I truly wavered.

But it was right then that my father was diagnosed with kidney failure.

I set aside my pride to plead with Otto, and didn't even dare call it anything but a loan.

Yet all he gave me was disgust and disappointment.

"Deidre, how are you still like this?"

In that moment, I finally understood.

What I cared about was never that one necklace.

It was that Otto's love was like an exam I could never pass.

I gave everything I had to prove my heart was true, and still he found me wanting;

yet Leah didn't have to do a thing, and he'd already scored her a perfect mark.

Now, this was the third time I wanted a divorce.

This time, I was going to go through with it.

I waited for Otto on the living room sofa all night long.

From dark until dawn, the study door stayed shut.

Through that one door, I could hear Leah's laughter drifting out now and then, and Otto's deliberately lowered, soothing voice.

I sat on the sofa, gripping that divorce agreement in my hand, and what had started as fury faded, until in the end all that was left was numbness.

Just before dawn, I couldn't hold out any longer and drifted off against the couch, half-conscious.

Somewhere between sleep and waking, someone gently laid a blanket over me.

My eyes snapped open and I grabbed his wrist.

Otto froze mid-motion.

He looked down at me, and for a single instant something panicked flickered in his eyes before his face hardened again.

Clutching at his sleeve, I asked hoarsely,

"The divorce agreement. Did you read it?"

Otto's expression went cold in an instant.

"Deidre, are you done making a scene?"

He pulled his hand back, like he'd been holding it in all night and finally couldn't anymore.

"You want to divorce me over three hundred thousand dollars?"

I looked at him, and suddenly the whole thing felt so absurd I almost laughed.

"Otto, that money is what's keeping my father alive."

"You're willing to buy Leah's dog a four-hundred-thousand-dollar collar, but you won't lend me three hundred thousand to save my dad's life?"

Otto's fists clenched, his face dark.

"The money is mine. How I spend it is my business. It's none of yours."

I stared at him, numb.

"But don't forget."

"For this marriage, for our child, I gave up my career on my own."

"All those years of salary, bonuses, my savings from before the wedding—I handed every cent of it to you."

"You were so afraid I was after the Gilbert family's money that you wouldn't even let me live in the apartment your family had ready. You insisted we buy our own place."

"This home, I bought it myself. I paid the down payment myself."

My voice was cracking, little by little.

"Otto, all I asked was to borrow three hundred thousand."

"After everything I've given you over the years, isn't that more than three hundred thousand already?"

Otto's face was ugly.

But what rose in his eyes wasn't guilt. It was disappointment.

"Deidre, you're tallying up money with me now?"

He looked at me like it pained him to the core.

"I love you so much I'd give up my own life for you and the baby, and now you're counting dollars with me?"

He stepped back half a pace, as if he were finally seeing me clearly.

"Leah was right after all."

"You married me for the money."

"You never brought it up before because the time wasn't right."

"The second something happens to your dad, you start figuring out how to pull money out of my hands."

A dry, hollow laugh escaped me.

"Think whatever you want."

I pushed the divorce agreement across to him.

"I want a divorce. I won't take a single cent of your money. All I want is to sell the house and take back the down payment I paid."

Otto's face turned to ice.

"No way! I won't divorce you."

"This house is our marital home! You don't get to sell it! My name is on it too, and as long as I don't sign, you can't sell it. Don't even dream about getting a cent."

I looked at him, and suddenly I didn't even have the strength left to argue.

"Otto, you say you love me."

"And yet you'd stand there and watch my father die."

I said softly,

"Your love. It's terrifying."

Otto pressed his lips into a thin line, as if my words had stung him.

But in the end he only turned and walked toward the study.

"Think it over carefully."

"Kidney failure is a bottomless pit."

"You can choose the family you came from, the one that'll need you to keep pouring money into it forever, or you can choose me and the baby."

"Deidre, it's your decision."

The study door closed again.

Otto seemed to have forgotten that before I became a housewife, I was a lawyer.

And what I was best at was divorce cases.

I'd left one last shred of dignity for our marriage, but now he'd torn it away.

Otto's threats meant nothing to me anymore.