Chapter 1

Nellie Shaw was starving. The moment she spotted half a chicken drumstick left on someone's plate, she reached for it. I quickly pulled her back.

"Nellie, remember what Mommy told you? We don't eat other people's leftovers."

She stared longingly at the chicken.

"But it's only on the table. It hasn't gone in the trash yet. You can just wipe it off for me, Mommy. Then I can eat it."

My eyes stung. I was about to pull the half a bread roll I'd saved from breakfast out of my pocket when a familiar voice came from behind me.

"Zoe Shaw?"

I froze.

Turning around, I found Caleb Hawthorne standing in the doorway, surrounded by the hospital director and a crowd of reporters. One of his cufflinks alone was worth enough to keep my daughter eating chicken drumsticks for the next ten years.

His gaze moved from my faded work uniform to the half-eaten bread roll in Nellie's hand. Slowly, his expression darkened.

"What are you doing here?"

I calmly tucked the bread roll back into my pocket.

"The hospital needed help, and I needed money."

Caleb looked at me as though I'd said something ridiculous.

"What happened to the fifty million I gave you?"

For a moment, I could only stare at him.

"Fifty million?"

Behind him, his secretary, Nina Sullivan, went deathly pale.

Caleb kept his eyes fixed on me. "You took the money, signed the abortion consent form, and had Nina tell me fifty million wasn't enough for you. You said you were going overseas to marry someone else."

I couldn't help laughing.

"Mr. Hawthorne, your secretary gave me exactly five hundred dollars to get an abortion. I nearly died after taking the medication she gave me. I survived, and so did my baby."

Caleb's head snapped toward Nellie.

Frightened, she wrapped both arms around my leg. "Mommy, is that my cheap daddy who died?"

The entire room fell silent.

Caleb stood there for barely two seconds before turning his attention back to me. Rather than question Nina, he looked me up and down with open suspicion.

"So this is why you're here today?"

I frowned. "What?"

"You knew I was coming to the hospital to make a donation, so you brought the kid here to corner me for money. Zoe, you haven't changed a bit."

His eyes swept over my threadbare uniform again before settling on the half-eaten bread roll in Nellie's hand. There was no pity in his expression, only disgust.

"I gave you fifty million to start a new life overseas, and you managed to blow through it in five years? Now you can't even afford to feed your own child. What kind of mother are you?"

I was so furious I almost laughed.

"Mr. Hawthorne, the only money I ever received from you was five hundred dollars."

Caleb's brows drew together. Before he could respond, Nina stepped forward from the crowd.

"Miss Shaw, I understand things are difficult for you right now, but that doesn't mean you can deny what happened five years ago just to get more money."

She opened her tablet and presented several documents to Caleb.

There was proof of a fifty-million-dollar transfer, a compensation agreement, records of overseas property purchases, and bank statements showing an account balance that had eventually dwindled to zero.

At the bottom of the agreement was my signature.

My fingertips went cold as I stared at it.

Five years ago, after the medication caused severe abdominal pain, Nina had given me a stack of papers to sign, claiming they were hospital admission forms. I had been in so much pain that I could barely make out the words, leaving me entirely at her mercy.

Now I understood. She had set the trap from the very beginning.

By the time Caleb finished reviewing the documents, the only thing left in his eyes was contempt.

"If you want money, Zoe, just say so. Using your own child to make people feel sorry for you? You don't deserve to call yourself a mother."

Nellie understood enough to know he was accusing me of something terrible. She threw her arms around my neck, desperate to defend me.

"Mommy didn't plan anything! I was just hungry! She gave me the egg this morning and only ate half a bread roll herself!"

Caleb faltered.

Nina immediately stepped between them. "Mr. Hawthorne, you can't necessarily trust what a child says. Five-year-olds are easily coached by adults."

The words had barely left her mouth when blood suddenly poured from Nellie's nose, and her little body went limp.

"Nellie!"

I scooped her up and rushed toward the emergency department, with Caleb following close behind.

The tests would cost $8,600. I had only $4,300 in my bank account.

Caleb took out his card, but Nina stopped him.

"We haven't even confirmed who the child's father is. If we just keep handing her money, she'll never stop asking."

After a moment of silence, Caleb paid only half the bill.

Looking at him, I almost wanted to laugh.

After all, this was hardly the first time something like this had happened.

During the two years Caleb and I were married, every cent I spent had to be approved by Nina.

At my first prenatal appointment, the doctor recommended folic acid supplements. Nina refused to approve the purchase, saying there was no need to waste money on pills when I could simply eat more vegetables.

When my morning sickness became so severe that I could barely keep any food down, I asked to buy a few bottles of prenatal vitamins. Nina rejected the request as "unnecessary emotional spending."

As my pregnancy progressed, I outgrew my clothes and wanted to buy a maternity dress. Nina told me to stop catering to beauty standards.

Only later did I discover that Nina could order herself a bouquet of flowers costing five figures without asking anyone's permission. Yet when I wanted to spend fifty dollars on supplements for my unborn child, I had to prove to her that the expense was genuinely necessary.

Eventually, I'd had enough. I took my rejected requests to Caleb, hoping he would finally do something about it.

He barely looked up from his paperwork.

"Nina knows more about managing money than you do. Just do what she says."

Back then, I thought he'd simply put his trust in the wrong person.

Now I finally understood. Nina hadn't been deciding whether I was allowed to spend money. She'd been deciding whether I deserved a place in Caleb's life at all.

That was a privilege I no longer needed.

I searched every pocket I had, pulling out loose change, small bills, and crumpled banknotes until I'd scraped together the remaining half of the payment.

A nurse handed me Nellie's medical registration form.

"What's the father's name? We'll need his contact information too."

I picked up the pen and wrote a single word in the space marked Father.

Deceased.

The moment Caleb saw it, his face darkened.