The Game My Husband Lost
My daughter, Emma Blackwood, was sick.
We were thirty thousand short of the treatment that could save her life.
My husband, Nathan Blackwood, looked devastated, his face tight with guilt. "Honey, I'm sorry. This is my fault. I don't have the money to save our daughter."
To pay for Emma's treatment, I worked four jobs daily, but during a restaurant shift, I saw Nathan rent the entire place to wine and dine another woman.
With a bright smile, she poured him a drink. "Mr. Blackwood, you are generous. You spend tens of millions like it's nothing. You can have any woman you want, so why marry some broke, low-class woman?"
Nathan slowly blew out a stream of smoke, his eyes full of contemp
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