Chapter 2

Mabel didn't even bat an eye when I called her "Mommy." She sat back down on the couch, picked up her phone, and rapidly tapped away on the screen. "Since you've agreed, I'll give my fans a little hint first."

I watched as she pulled up the backend for her Instagram account, the screen's glow illuminating her cold, aloof profile. Several minutes later, she posted a cryptic caption. "Sometimes, all I want is to fulfill the wishes of a pure soul, yet I'm constantly held back by the shackles of society. I only wish the people by my side could be a little more understanding and a little less selfish."

Mabel didn't name me outright, yet every word she wrote pointed straight at me, pushing me into the abyss.

As one of the country's biggest stars with nine million followers, as soon as she updated her account, the comment section exploded.

"What's wrong, Mabel? Is your nouveau-riche husband mistreating you again?"

"I told you capitalists are heartless. He must be restricting Mabel's freedom!"

"We need to protect Mabel at all costs. We must stand against that trashy control freak!"

Mabel had personally held the blade of public opinion against my throat.

One after another, my ridiculous sacrifices flashed through my mind… I'd booked out the entire cinema complex just so she could watch a movie in peace. We had been the only ones in that massive theater, yet she'd kept her eyes glued to her phone the entire movie, texting her first love, Mateo Thorne, without sparing so much as a glance at the screen.

I used to think she was cold and distant by nature. Now, it dawned on me that was the bare minimum effort required to keep her ATM around.

"Let's do the math, Mabel." I stifled my irritation and pointed at the agreement on the table. "I'd transferred 30 million dollars to your parents as our wedding gift. 50 million dollars isn't 500 dollars. It's not a sum you can squander on a whim."

Mabel set her phone down, her eyes brimming with contempt. "You really are as vulgar as ever. Let me repeat myself—2.5 tons of cash can't buy my 3.5-microgram egg. The wedding gift is your obligation as my husband. The 50-million-dollar fertility fund is the price you have to pay if you want to keep this marriage."

Right after saying that, she pulled a document out of her bag and slammed it on the coffee table. It was a copy of Mat's medical records detailing his organ failure.

"Look!" Tears welled up in her eyes, and her voice trembled just enough to sound convincing. "Mat's on his deathbed, suffering in the ICU every day. It's bad enough that you're holding me hostage with this conventional marriage... Yet, by withholding this amount of money, you're snuffing out a dying man's final wish with your own hands! Aren't you afraid of retribution when you go to sleep at night?"

This sorrow wasn't mine to bear.

Just then, the door to the suite was pushed open. Mabel's manager, Jasmine Green, strutted in on her high heels.

After taking in the mess on the floor, she took her place right beside Mabel. "Mr. Moore, we're all adults here. Let's not make this ugly."

Jasmine crossed her arms. "I'm sure you know better than anyone how valuable Mabel is commercially right now. If you insist on taking this public, your reputation and your company's public image will be dragged through the mud online. So, you should know which way the wind is blowing. Sign the agreement and be the child's father in name only."

As soon as her words fell, my phone rang. It was Mabel's mother, Maya Sterling.

I put the call on speaker, and Maya's voice boomed through the suite. "Enough's enough, Hugh! Mabel just wants to have something to remember him by. You're a grown-ass man. How can you be so petty?

"We gave you our brilliant daughter's hand in marriage, and yet you won't even cough up a little money? If you refuse, I'll make a scene outside your company and let everyone see what kind of person you really are!"

Pressure closed in on me from all sides. I lowered my head and remained silent, as though I had been completely crushed under wave after wave of pressure.

However, beneath the table, I pressed the encrypted communication button built into my watch. Three long presses. One short.

The highest-level emergency command for my personal financial team. Message sent successfully.

The asset-separation protocol was officially activated. From this moment on, all external transfers of the marital assets under my name were completely frozen. Without my iris scan and multi-factor dynamic passwords, she wouldn't be able to touch a single cent.

The room was pitch-black, sealed off from the outside world. Mabel and Jasmine were still running their mouths, while I calmly sat back and listened. The hunter had now become the hunted.