The $8,000 Price Tag on My Marriage

I hit six centimeters dilated. Carter bursts into the hospital room. "Give me your card right now.

The hospital deposit is eight grand." I pry my heavy eyelids open. "Where's yours?" He jerks back. "Don't tell me you're trying to use this baby to get your hands on my prenup money!" Chapter 1 Next bed over, Gemma actually forgets her own contractions.

I stare at Carter in utter disbelief. "What did you just say?" "Cut the crap!" He crouches down and starts rummaging through my hospital bag. "I busted my ass for my money!

Fighting off coworkers, managing incompetent staff, outsmarting the boss, taking crap from clients! Nobody gets a dime of my money except my parents.

Especially not some irrelevant outsider!" "I told you when we were dating. I'm not running a charity here. No freeloading.

Nobody uses a piece of paper to snatch what isn't theirs!" Ice floods my veins. The temperature in the room plummets. How blind was I to marry such a scumbag? I know it right now.

If things go south in the delivery room, he will sign the DNR without a second thought. I glance at the wall clock. It's Christmas Day. Mom and Dad just boarded their flight.

Two hours until Donovan and Elaine touch down. Helen, my nanny, is off for the holidays. The baby decided to come a whole week early. I have to stall until my parents get here.

Another contraction hits. A brutal, tearing agony. I claw at the wall. Every nerve ending in my body screams. Cold sweat soaks through my hospital gown.

I haven't eaten a single bite all morning. Sierra, our nurse, practically begged my husband to go grab some food. So Carter brought back two packs of instant ramen.

Forget the lack of nutrition. I couldn't even choke it down if I tried. Gemma rides out her own contraction. She digs through her duffel and holds out a handful of Snickers bars.

She lets out a soft sigh. "Whatever happens with him, you gotta survive this part first. You got this." My shaking fingers brush against hers. My throat tightens.

A sharp sting hits the back of my nose. I force the first candy bar down. A rush of unprecedented strength fills me. I lock eyes with Carter. Dead set. "Stop digging.

Call… call Brody. Tell him to come pay the deposit." "Brody?" Carter freezes. He slowly turns around. "Why the hell would he pay your deposit?" Brody. One of his golf buddies.

A walking, talking piece of trash. The kind of guy who knocks up girls and refuses to take responsibility. Midthirties and still single.

I feel zero guilt dragging him into this mess. Since this marriage is already dead in the water. I might as well hand Carter a solid reason to file for divorce.

The tearing pain fades just enough. I meet his vicious glare. "Nobody uses a piece of paper to snatch what isn't theirs!

And nobody uses a marriage certificate to claim a baby that isn't his." "Holy shit!" Someone’s jaw practically hits the floor. I glance over. It’s Gemma.

She frantically grabs her husband's arm. "Aaron, did you hear that? I swear to God this baby is yours, and your money is definitely mine." Carter shoots to his feet.

Thick veins bulge along his forearms. "Say that again, you bitch! This baby… it’s a bastard you made behind my back with Brody?!" Something clicks in my brain. Wait.

I missed one. "Actually, call Lance too." The entire room inhales sharply. Lance. Another one of Carter’s frat brothers. A degenerate gambler and a chronic cheater.

He gave his own wife an STD. His own divorce trial is blowing up right now. Chapter 2 Since this situation is already a total trainwreck. What’s one more casualty?

A bastard is a bastard, no matter who the daddy is. Once a woman stops giving a single fuck, nothing can chain her down.

Carter freezes in his tracks. "You actually slept with Lance, too? The guy has an STD!

How fucking desperate and cheap are you?" "And your dad," I grit my teeth through a massive spike of agony, dropping the ultimate bombshell. "Call Wayne, too." A metal tray clatters to the floor.

Carter stumbles back. "Are you out of your mind? You're dumping this toxic mess on your own head just because I won't cover your outofpocket deductible? It's only eight grand!

My dad is in his sixties! Why would you destroy him like this?" "Destroy him?" I shoot Carter a deadpan look. "You've got it twisted.

What's wrong with a grandfather paying the deposit for his own grandchild?" "Is it his son or his grandson?" Carter’s eyes bulge, bloodshot and furious. "Whichever.

Up to you." It’s exactly what they say. Extreme adrenaline wipes out the pain. Every single cell in my body vibrates. Tear him apart.

I have never felt this kind of electric high in my life. The other families awkwardly yank their privacy curtains shut. The drama in this room is way too thick.

It successfully distracts the other moms from their labor pains. Even Sierra, the nurse, lingers in our room for a ridiculously long time. Who says you can't air dirty laundry?

It’s not my dirt, anyway.

Without missing a beat, I shove his phone right at his chest. "Do I dial, or do you?" "Like hell I'll dial!" Carter snatches the phone, smashes it against the floor, and grabs me by the collar. "What the hell did you do behind my back with Brody and Lance?

Whose bastard is this?!" "Take a wild guess." I tilt my chin up, mocking him. "Aren't we just irrelevant outsiders?

Why does it matter who the father is?" Carter’s bottom lip quivers uncontrollably. He really thought he had the perfect setup.

Demanding I be completely financially independent while popping out his kids and playing the submissive tradwife. The world doesn't work that way. "Fine! Perfect!

You wanna play it like this?" He jams his index finger hard against my forehead. "This is straightup adultery. You're walking away from this marriage with absolutely nothing!

You brought this on yourself." A cold, knowing smile touches my lips. "Don't stress. Whoever the real dad is, I'm sure he'll pay you a generous cuck fee.

We always settle our tabs." "Pfft—" A snort escapes through the gap in the next curtain. Gemma shoots me a stealthy thumbsup. Suddenly, the door bursts open. A figure marches in.

I look over, totally stunned. It’s Phyllis? The older woman scowls at us. "I could hear you two screaming from down the hall. It's been hours. Why hasn't this baby popped out yet?

My bridge group is missing a fourth." Carter abruptly releases my collar. Momentum throws me heavily back onto the mattress. "She's carrying a bastard!

Whoever wants to stay can stay, because I am done!" Carter snatches his jacket and turns to walk out. Chapter 3 Phyllis frowns at him. "Bastard? What are you talking about?

Where are you going?" "She just admitted to sleeping with Brody and Lance. We don't even know whose kid is in there." "What?" Phyllis seizes Carter by the arm. "A bastard?

Then you cannot leave! The second that baby is out, we are doing a DNA test. Then we bleed this bitch dry!

The ring, the wedding costs, emotional damages—I swear to God I'll bankrupt her!" Carter freezes. He slowly turns his head, eyes narrowing. "You're right.

We definitely need to settle this score." Another brutal contraction hits. A sudden gush of warm liquid soaks my sweatpants and puddles on the floor. My water just broke.

The tension in the room vanishes. I desperately grip Sierra's arm. "What do I do?" Sierra immediately supports my weight. "Lie down!

Do not stand up!" She shoves the billing slip back at Carter. "Go pay the deposit right now! This is life or death!

Whatever your drama is, deal with it after she delivers!" Before I can even process his threat, the nurses are sprinting, wheeling me into the delivery room while hot tears spill down my temples.

You never truly know if you married a man or a monster until you're staring down death. Carter and I met in college. We were both dead broke back then. No chance to spend his money.

After graduation, I landed a solid job. Still no reason to touch his paycheck. After we got married, Helen, the livein nanny my parents paid for, moved in with us.

I had zero reason to ever ask him for a dime. Eventually, I just got used to being completely selfsufficient. I was raised to be reasonable. To have integrity.

To be a good partner. To put myself in their shoes and treat every inlaw like real family. But nobody ever warned me. Not everyone deserves to be called family.

I survive a trip to hell and back, ending up with an emergency Csection. I remember right as the consent forms were being signed, my parents finally sprinted into the ward.

Outside the delivery room doors, that crumpled deposit slip lies abandoned on the floor. Eight grand. That was the exact price to see his true colors. Elaine holds me, crying.

Donovan looks back and forth between me and the newborn. "She's beautiful. She looks exactly like you. From now on, her name is Stella." I finally break down in tears.

The whole world could stab me in the back, but my parents never will. Elaine gently places the baby into my arms. I look down and press my lips against her tiny head.

In that exact second, everything shifts. I am a mother. And I will fight tooth and nail to protect what belongs to my daughter.

Soon after, Helen rushes in, looking completely out of breath. "Why did she come a whole week early?

I was so stressed I didn't sleep a wink last night." Looking at my real family gathered around me, a wave of safety washes over me.

Helen was the ultimate safety net my parents gave me. I didn't get a massive trust fund or a shiny new house when I got married. Technically, my only "dowry" was a fulltime nanny.

At the time, I couldn't wrap my head around it. I'm an only child. My parents busted their asses their whole lives, and we definitely aren't hurting for cash.

But they played the game totally differently.

Chapter 4 That was the exact moment Carter's perfectly crafted "nice guy" mask slipped for the very first time. "Delaney, did your parents make a mistake?

Normal parents buy the newlyweds a house or a car.

Your family is giving us a livein maid?" "Carter, don't worry, this won't shortchange you," Donovan had told him back then. "Real estate tanks, cars depreciate.

But Helen is different. She's been with our family for years. She knows exactly how Delaney likes her meals, and she can take perfect care of her.

Don't worry about her payroll—consider it Delaney's safety net.

As long as you two are happy, that's all that matters." Pulling me from my thoughts, Elaine takes out that exact employment contract. She gently rubs my shoulder. "Don't worry.

Nobody uses a piece of paper to snatch what isn't theirs." Helen pulls a plastic card from her wallet and slides it into my palm. I look down. It’s my own credit card.

The one my parents practically forced me to open right before the wedding. "For the past two years, Helen's salary and basically all your household expenses went straight onto this card," Elaine explains softly. "When it maxed out, your dad and I just quietly paid the minimums every month.

We figured if your marriage was solid, we'd just pay off the whole balance as a gift. But looking at it now? Carter isn't worth a dime of our trust." The realization hits me hard.

My parents saw right through the truth of this marriage two years ago. I was just too naive. I actually believed that grinding for a 50/50 partnership meant genuine love.

I thought staying completely financially independent meant I’d earn his respect. Instead, it just proved to Carter that I was a gullible idiot.

He happily leeched off every single thing I brought to the table. But an eightgrand hospital deposit? That felt like bleeding him dry.

It completely invalidated two years of my blood, sweat, and tears. The heavy tension in the room finally breaks when the nurses wheel Gemma back in.

She has just given birth to a healthy baby boy. She’s already recovering like a champ, sitting up and getting ready to walk.

Gemma slides her phone across the mattress toward me. "Hey Delaney, I recorded that whole screaming match between you guys earlier.

Think you need the receipts?" My parents and I exchange a loaded look. "Absolutely. Thank you so much." Turns out, there are still decent people left in this world.

After a night of rest, Carter and Phyllis storm back into my hospital room. The second he crosses the threshold, he slaps a manila folder onto my tray table. "I'm done talking.

I don't want to look at a shameless slut like you for another second. Sign the divorce papers." Donovan picks up the documents, his eyes scanning the harsh legal jargon. "Carter.

You've been married for two years. Delaney just risked her life giving birth, and you're forcing a divorce and demanding huge financial compensation?

What kind of twisted logic is this?" Carter glares coldly at Stella, who is fast asleep in the bassinet. "Ask her yourself.

Whose bastard is that?" "Yours." I look up, meeting his gaze. "I just said all that to piss you off.

I wasn't thinking." "Bullshit!" Phyllis lunges forward, her face twisted in rage. "We're supposed to just take your word for it? We are taking that thing for a DNA test right now!

The results will speak for themselves.

Otherwise, you are coughing up the thirtygrand engagement ring and a hundred grand in emotional damages!" Chapter 5 I pull Stella tighter against my chest. "Sorry.

Nobody gets to demand a random DNA test on my daughter. I say she's yours, so she's yours.

End of discussion." I smile and slide my credit card across the tray table. "From now on, all the baby's expenses go on this card.

Helen's payroll, formula, early childhood classes, insurance—everything. And since I'll be out of work taking care of her, go ahead and wire fifty grand to start.

That should cover the basics." Carter’s eyes practically bulge out of his skull. "Delaney, you are fucking delusional! Fifty grand? Why don't you just rob a bank?" I meet his stare.

The smile never drops. "Robbing a bank is a federal crime. Bleeding my baby daddy dry? That’s just child support." "Mask off, huh?

This is the real you?" I brush a loose strand of hair behind my ear. "Yep. Done playing nice.

Oh, and by the way, Helen’s backpay for the last two years, plus our joint living expenses, comes out to about forty grand.

You can wire that over, too." "Keep dreaming, you psycho!" Carter snarls, backing away. "That was a voluntary gift from your parents!

I am not funding your family's lavish lifestyle!" He grabs Phyllis by the arm and drags her out of the room. The heavy hospital door slams shut. The massive slam makes Stella jolt.

I immediately cup her tiny head, shushing her softly. I’ve seen the absolute bottom of this marriage.

There is zero reason to leave him an inch of breathing room. "Why don't you just move back home with us after you're discharged?

I hate leaving you here," Elaine murmurs, carefully watching my face as she rocks the baby.

I shake my head. "I moved across the country for him, but with Helen here, I never actually suffered. You and Dad gave me that safety net. Plus, he owes me a massive debt.

I am not walking away until I collect every single penny." A week later, I'm officially discharged. Carter and Phyllis never show their faces once.

But behind the scenes, Carter spent the entire past week frantically tearing through his dashcam footage and our home security logs, desperate for proof of my "affairs." He even kicks down Brody and Lance’s doors, completely losing his mind.

Both frat bros are utterly clueless. He finds absolutely nothing. Which means he has exactly zero grounds to file for an atfault divorce.

Meanwhile, citing spousal abandonment, verbal abuse, and refusal to pay medical bills during active labor, I go ahead and sign a lease on a threebedroom apartment across town.

I set up a guest room perfectly for Donovan and Elaine.

Then, I screenshot the fortygrand wire transfer for a year's rent and text it straight to Carter. "Here’s the rent for me and your daughter for the next year. Wire it over.

It’s joint marital debt, babe. You can't run from it." That text finally breaks him. I stare at the hundreds of missed calls lighting up my screen.

A long, heavy breath leaves my lungs. "What the hell do you want?" a text from him reads.

Good question. "I want you left with absolutely nothing." They completely underestimated me. I was raised to cut out toxic rot without hesitation.

I grew up drowning in unconditional love from my parents. I don't need a man to validate my existence, which means I can walk away without a single drop of regret.

Eight grand for a hospital deposit. To him, it was a fortune. To me, it was just the cheap price tag to expose a dog. Over the next few days, Carter desperately backpedals.

He floods my phone with pathetic apologies and gaslighting texts. I leave every single one on read. I know exactly what game he’s playing. He’s waiting for an opening.

A chance to sneak in and steal Stella's DNA. Like I’d ever make it that easy for him. I’m saving that explosive reveal for the judge. It’s going to be spectacular.

Chapter 6 Three days later, my phone vibrates. Vanessa. Lance's soontobe exwife. I prep myself for a screaming match, assuming she’s calling to rip my head off.

Instead, her first sentence knocks the wind out of me. "I know the rumors about you and Lance are bullshit.

Nobody in their right mind would touch that toxic trash," she says flatly. "But I need to tell you something.

Carter is seeing someone." The air catches in my throat. "Seeing someone?" "Yeah. He’d hide it from you, but he definitely brags to his frat bros.

I overheard them when they were blacked out. She's a bottle girl at some highend club. They’ve been hooking up for almost a year.

Started right around the time you got pregnant." "What?" A deafening ringing fills my ears. A year’s worth of red flags flash behind my eyes. Sleeping in the guest room.

Changing his lock screen passcode out of nowhere. The endless latenight "meetings." Stumbling in at 3 AM. That piece of shit wasn't actually broke.

He was just cheap when it came to his own wife. For his side piece, his pockets were wide open. "So what's your play?" Vanessa’s voice snaps me back.

I rub my pounding temples hard. "I don't know. I need to process this. If I can nail him for cheating, I'll have the ultimate leverage for an atfault divorce. What about you?

How's your case going?" A heavy sigh bleeds through the speaker. "Lost. Even giving me an STD isn't enough hard proof of infidelity for the judge.

They threw out my first divorce petition. Now I have to wait a brutal six months to file again.

The system is entirely rigged against us." "So you have absolutely zero leads on his mistress?" "I have leads. But zero solid proof. The bitch works at a highend massage spa.

Lance is obsessed with 'massages'. On paper, every single credit card swipe looks like a totally legit transaction.

I can't prove he's maliciously draining marital assets." My brain kicks into overdrive. "Then try this. Pull together some cash and buy out that spa.

Or at least buy a controlling stake. Once you're the boss, you get full access to the books. Next time he comes in for a 'massage,' send a whole lineup of girls into his room.

Keep draining his wallet. The money just funnels right back to you." Vanessa falls completely silent. "Buy the spa? I've never run a business in my life.

What if… what if it totally tanks?" I let out a cold laugh. "So what if it tanks! You're still legally married, right?

You're just making an 'investment' to secure your family's financial future. Let these men play their stupid little games. We can play a much deadlier one.

If it turns a profit, you completely control the cash flow. If it tanks, your husband is legally on the hook for the debt. That's the ultimate legal loophole for a wife!

He wants to drag out the divorce? Let him bleed out trying." Vanessa gasps. "Holy shit. I never even thought of that.

I've been playing defense this entire time and getting absolutely wrecked. I need to go on the offensive. Done. I'm securing the funding tomorrow!" I hang up.

Time to draft my own kill shot. A club girl? Fine. Challenge accepted. The mistress’s hunting ground—The Nightfall Lounge. "Hi.

I need to pick up a bottle my friend left on reserve here. Carter.

Phone number ends in zerosixzerotwo." Sabrina clicks through her iPad for a solid minute. "A reserved bottle of liquor? Mr. Carter never buys bottle service.

He only ever orders cheap buckets of beer." I narrow my eyes at her. "Are you sure you checked the right dates?" Sabrina doublechecks the system.

She confirms there's absolutely no liquor under his name. She picks up her walkietalkie and calls Jasper over. Chapter 7 Jasper frowns at Sabrina. "Who's handling Mr.

Carter's VIP table?" "I think he's one of Jade's regulars…" Jasper nods and picks up the intercom. Jade? I roll the name over in my head.

A moment later, a girl appears in front of me. She rakes her eyes up and down my outfit. "Hi. I'm Jade. Can I help you with something?" I give her the exact same onceover.

Early twenties. Flawless makeup. A limitededition designer bag. A fresh set of acrylics.

Looks like this is Carter's real idea of an "equal partnership." A slow smile spreads across my face. "You absolutely can. Jade, right?

You know, people really should have a little basic decency." Her perfectly contoured face drops. "What the hell are you talking about?" I step into her space and grab her by the arm. "What, you take the money and suddenly get amnesia?

That's not what you said when you agreed to be the surrogate." A heavy hush falls over the entire lounge.

Jade's face flushes red, then drains to stark white. "What—what kind of bullshit are you spewing! I don't even know you!" I let out a sharp laugh. "You don't know me?

But you definitely know Carter, right? All those monthly wire transfers to your bank account—wasn't that your payout for the surrogacy?" She freezes.

Sabrina and the other hosts exchange heavily loaded glances. I know right then. My gamble paid off perfectly. She wants to sue me for defamation? She wouldn't dare.

Unless her and Carter are entirely platonic and no money ever changed hands. A bottle girl isn't scared of a civil lawsuit. Four or five hundred just to pour drinks at the table.

Three or four grand for "offmenu" escort services. No matter what her bank statements look like, she has nothing to fear from a regular judge.

But does she have the guts to explain that to the cops? Admit she works the VIP rooms? Admit Carter wired her the cash for sleeping with him?

Hand herself over to Vice on a silver platter? The second those words leave her mouth, her life is completely over. I'm sure Vice would love a tip about your little VIP sidehustle.

The corner of Jade's mouth twitches. "What exactly do you want?" "It's simple." I tilt my chin up. "Since you're backing out of the surrogacy, you're going to refund every single penny Carter wired you.

We're reasonable people, but taking the cash and running is just bad for business." Her chest heaves with erratic, panicked breaths. "I'm calling Carter right now.

He can come deal with this." "Be my guest.

Let's burn this whole toxic mess to the ground together." When Carter bursts through the doors, sheer panic flashes across his face before he forces it back to a cold mask. "What the hell are you doing here?" I let out a scoff. "Babe, you handled this so unprofessionally.

If the girl doesn't want to be our surrogate, you can't force her. Look how pretty she is. Your little budget obviously wasn't enough.

You bust your ass for a few grand a month, while she easily clears double that just drinking with guys in VIP. See?

Men really love overestimating their own worth." Carter's face flushes a mottled red, the veins in his neck bulging. "What kind of bullshit are you spewing?

Get the fuck out of here right now! Or I'm calling the cops!" "Pfft—" A bark of derisive laughter rips from my throat. "Even Jade hasn't called the cops.

Who the hell do you think you are? Listen to me very carefully. Every single dollar you gave this girl was an illegal transaction.

Since she's not fulfilling her 'surrogacy' contract, I want it all refunded. Down to the last cent." "You have twentyfour hours.

If I don't see that money in my account by this time tomorrow, I'm going straight to the cops.

And you two can explain your little illegal transactions to Vice yourselves." Chapter 8