Chapter 3

Everyone in our circle thought I was just a pretty idiot who hit the jackpot. They all believed Chloe had climbed the social ladder by marrying Julian.

What a sick joke.

The reality was that Julian’s "business empire" was an empty shell. His entire affluent facade was secretly propped up by my trust fund—the hidden heiress footing the bill. I was the blood supply. He was just the parasite.

Looking back, I should never have funded this ridiculous charity case of a marriage. Love? Forget it. Money is far more loyal than men.

I scrolled through the statements, checking every line. Julian kept a death grip on all the company’s profits, always using "unstable cash flow" as his excuse.

Yet his extravagant personal spending? All charged to my account.

$1,200. Silk pajamas.

$3,500. High-end skincare.

The delivery addresses and frequented boutiques all pointed straight to Vanessa.

I used to think marriage meant having each other's backs, and that bean-counting would only ruin things. So even when he used my hard-earned money to pamper his "fragile, depressed" childhood sweetheart, I swallowed it.

Two years ago, on my birthday, I walked right past a bakery without even buying myself a twenty-dollar cake. Julian had been rubbing his temples, stressing to me, "Chloe, every dime needs to stay in the company. We have to be smart, understand?"

What did I do? I just smiled, hugged him, and lied that I didn't care for sweets.

Now, that exact same card was paying for Vanessa's luxury suites in five-star hotels.

I remembered last month, when I finally hit my limit and drew a boundary: "Stop putting Vanessa's personal expenses on my card."

Julian had exploded. He looked down at me, snapping, "Are you completely heartless? Chloe, Vanessa is clinically depressed! She could break down at any moment, and you're nickel-and-diming me over this? Fine! I swear I’ll never touch another cent of yours again!"

Staring at those statements, I didn’t text him to complain or pitch a hysterical fit for an explanation. Instead, I just took two minutes to change all my credit card PINs and revoke his payment access.

Less than ten minutes later, my phone rang.

"What the hell is going on with your card?" Julian’s furious voice blasted through the speaker the second I answered. "I'm trying to pay the bill, Chloe! It declined! The machine literally beeped in front of the waiter. Do you know how humiliating that was?"

Not a single word of explanation for his massive bill. Not a breath about Vanessa. He only cared about his bruised ego.

"It declined because I changed the PIN," I said, my voice dead flat.

A dead silence hung on the other end of the line.

"You did what?" he hissed through gritted teeth. "Are you out of your mind? Are you doing this just to mess with me?"

"Didn't you swear you'd never touch my money again?" I shot back. "I'm just helping you keep your promise."

"You're being completely childish!" Julian sneered, defensive and humiliated. "You're making a mountain out of a molehill! You did this specifically to humiliate me in public, didn't you?"

Listening to his accusations, I just felt a wave of absurdity. Back then, to fill the massive black hole of his failed investment, I had handed over the entire trust fund my mother left me. I didn't ask questions. I didn't demand to see the financial reports. I just hugged him and comforted him, honestly believing that giving him my absolute trust would earn me his love in return.

And what did that get me?

When I didn't answer, Julian quickly pivoted. It was his classic victim-blaming script.

He took a deep breath, his tone softening into a patronizing compromise. "Alright, I get it. Are you still mad that I missed our anniversary trip? Is this your way of punishing me?"

"Once things settle down at work, I'll make it up to you and take you on a trip to clear your head. Now, change the PIN back. Immediately. And don't ever embarrass me like this again."