The Price of Your Devotion

When Ethan came home with my infertility diagnosis, he broke down and sobbed even harder than I did. To help cover my medical treatments, he set up a GoFundMe overnight, tearfully describing our agonizing journey trying for a baby. The moment the sixty thousand dollars in donations hit his account, Ethan held me in his arms, weeping uncontrollably and swearing that taking care of me was his sole duty in this life. I believed him. To return that deep devotion, I rushed to put the prime downtown townhouse left by my late parents on the market for an urgent sale. Just as I was about to press my signature onto the closing agreement, Ethan's phone screen lit up on the counter. A new text popped up on the lock screen: "Babe, are the GoFundMe funds enough for the down payment on that Porsche yet?" "Come home tonight so we can celebrate!" The sender ID read: [Forever Yours, Chloe.] For three whole years, I had dutifully swallowed those bitter herbal concoctions every single day. It wasn't until this very moment that I finally realized—those foul medicines were never meant to help me conceive. My hand holding the pen froze in midair, the tip just millimeters from the signature line. "Babe, what's wrong? Sign it already! Mr. Miller has other places to be!" Ethan urged, hurrying out of the bathroom. I looked up at him. His eyes were bloodshot and his face looked worn, the spitting image of a devoted husband who had worried himself sick over his wife's health. Yet, what was he truly hiding inside that chest of his? "Babe?" Ethan called out again, his hand reaching across the table to grab mine and force it down onto the paper. I yanked my hand back, clutched my stomach, and collapsed onto the couch. "Ouch... it hurts..." My face contorted in agony, cold sweat beading on my forehead. "My stomach hurts so bad... it feels like someone's twisting a knife in my gut... I can't... I can't sign right now..." Ethan's face darkened, instantly flustered and irritable. "Why are you dropping the ball at such a crucial moment?! Mr. Miller's cash offer is top dollar! Once this deal is gone, it's gone!" Standing nearby, bald-headed Mr. Miller frowned with obvious displeasure and stubbed out his cigarette in the tray. "Look, Ethan, your wife has too much drama. Are you selling this place or not? If not, I'm out of here. My liquid cash won't wait around forever." Panic gripped Ethan. He grabbed my shoulders and shook me hard. "Babe, push through the pain! It's just a signature, takes two seconds! Once we sign, we'll have the cash for your treatments!" Watching how desperate he was to forge my name himself, I wanted nothing more than to grab a kitchen knife and hack him to pieces! "I really can't... my hands are shaking too much..." Trembling, I knocked the contract off the coffee table, deliberately tipping over the glass of water next to it. Water flooded across the hardwood floor, instantly soaking through the documents. "Damn it! The contract!" Ethan shrieked, diving to scoop it up. The signature page was already smeared into an unreadable mess. Bald Miller cursed under his breath, snatched his briefcase, and headed for the door. "What a waste of my damn time! Call me tomorrow if you get your act together!" "Wait! Mr. Miller! Don't leave! We can just print another copy!" Ethan scrambled after him into the hallway. The apartment fell dead silent. My groans stopped instantly. I stared coldly toward the front door. Ethan, you want to play dirty mind games? Fine. I'll play along until you drop.When Ethan returned, his face was storm-cloud dark. Yet he quickly smoothed his expression, poured a fresh glass of warm water, and walked over to me. "Babe, feeling any better? You scared the hell out of me just now!" Ethan sat beside me, draping an arm around my shoulders. If I hadn't seen that text message with my own eyes, I would have fallen for his act all over again. "A little better, just feeling really weak," I murmured, leaning weakly against his chest while choking back the urge to vomit. "Ethan, I'm so sorry... I ruined your deal." "It's fine. We can sell the house anytime," Ethan waved it off with fake generosity, though his eyes kept darting toward his phone on the table. "It's just such a shame about Miller's offer. One hundred and eighty thousand, all cash upfront. Deals like that are practically impossible to find these days!" One hundred and eighty thousand? I sneered inwardly. Even though this townhouse was an older build, it sat right in the heart of the downtown school district. Its true market value was at least three hundred thousand. Was he in such a rush to cash out that he was willing to dump it for dirt cheap? Or was that bald Miller just a planted buyer he hired, conspiring with him to swindle my inheritance away? "Ethan, what about the GoFundMe donations?" I asked softly, testing the waters. "Didn't we raise sixty thousand? Can't we use that to book the specialist consultation first?" Ethan's entire body stiffened. "Uh... that money is still under review by the platform. Withdrawals don't clear that quickly." His eyes shifted erratically, dodging my gaze. "Besides, that fund is strictly reserved for the big medical procedures. I want to save every cent of it for your upcoming surgeries. We can front the initial consultation fees ourselves." He was lying through his teeth! That text explicitly asked if the donation money was enough to pick up the Porsche! The cash had already landed in his bank account. "I see..." I nodded with deliberate disappointment. "Then I guess we'll just have to wait and sign the contract tomorrow." Hearing that, Ethan's eyes lit up with renewed excitement! "Exactly! First thing tomorrow morning, I'll have Miller come back! Don't worry, babe, I'll make sure he throws in an extra two grand!" Watching his greedy excitement, the very last shred of warmth in my heart withered into dust. This man wasn't my husband. He was a cold-blooded parasite waiting to bleed me dry! At dinnertime, Ethan brought out a bowl of murky, pitch-black herbal tonic, just as he did every single night. "Drink it while it's hot, babe. This is a special holistic formula prescribed by a top traditional doctor, made specifically for your internal balance." I took the bowl. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that Ethan's own bowl contained nothing but plain broth and simple vegetables. Over the past three years, Ethan had forced me to swallow every imaginable health tonic, yet he never touched a single drop himself, always claiming men didn't need hormonal regulating. "Ethan, don't you want some?" I asked casually. "I heard this blend helps both men and women balance their systems." Ethan waved his hand dismissively. "I don't need any of that stuff. My body is in peak shape! Besides, my brother's kid, Leo, will carry on our family name anyway, so I'm not stressing." He said it so offhandedly, but my stomach clenched. What did that mean? Had Ethan decided long ago that he never wanted children with me? Or... A terrifying suspicion crossed my mind, but before I could piece it together, Ethan was already nagging me to drink the concoction. Later that night, Ethan went into the bathroom to take a shower. It was his ironclad routine: a half-hour shower, blaring music the entire time. I quietly stepped over to the nightstand and picked up his phone. The passcode was my birthday. In the past, I had found that terribly romantic. Out of respect and trust, I had never once snooped through his private messages. Now I saw it for what it truly was—a calculated move to keep me oblivious and docile. I unlocked the screen and opened SnapChat. Pinned right at the top of his messages was a profile picture of an influencer-faced blonde in a skimpy tank top. Her display name was: "Forever Yours, Chloe." Opening the chat log, a stench of pure betrayal hit me square in the face.Chloe: "Babe, hasn't that plain Jane signed the papers yet? I wanted to drive the new ride to brunch with the girls tomorrow morning~" Ethan: "Be patient, gorgeous. We had a little hiccup today. The dumb broad got a sudden stomachache and ruined the contract. I'll get it handled tomorrow." Chloe: "Ugh, she's always such a useless headache. By the way, the fake clinic diagnosis didn't blow our cover, did it?" Ethan: "Relax. I paid a street hustler twenty bucks to print that fake medical report. She doesn't know the first thing about fertility science. When the time comes, I'll trick her into booking fake IVF rounds, make up an excuse that the implantation failed, and all that cash will be ours clean and clear." Chloe: "You're so bad, babe~ But I love it. Oh right, your mom said once the house sells, you have to save half the cash for your nephew Leo's wedding and dowry." Ethan: "She can have whatever she wants. That idiot's townhouse was inherited before our marriage, but the moment I trick her into liquidating it into cash, it becomes marital property. I can spend it however the hell I want." Staring at the screen, I bit down hard on my inner lip until the sharp metallic taste of blood flooded my mouth. My infertility was a lie. His grand, tearful devotion was nothing more than an elaborate con. Ethan didn't just want to steal the charity funds raised by well-meaning strangers; he wanted to strip me and my deceased parents of every single penny we had, chewing our bones to dust. Even more sickening was the fact that he was already scheming to slice up my home's equity to hand over to his toxic mother and his deadbeat nephew. That property was worth at least three hundred thousand. That represented the life savings of an honest, hard-working family over two decades. Ethan wanted to dump it for cheap to pocket a secret kickback and distribute the rest among his family of bloodsuckers. I pulled out my own phone and snapped photo after photo of his screen. The text exchanges, the PayPal and bank transfer receipts, and the explicit, provocative photos Chloe had sent him—I saved every single shred of evidence. Once I was done, I put Ethan's phone back in its exact spot, carefully wiping away any stray fingerprints. Slipping back under the covers, my heart hammered violently against my ribs. I had to stay calm. If I confronted Ethan right this second, it would end with nothing more than a messy divorce. There was no guarantee the sixty thousand in charity money would ever be recovered, let alone that Ethan would face any real punishment. I didn't just want out. I wanted him ruined. I wanted him rotting behind bars! Ethan finally stepped out of the bathroom, carrying the cheap scent of floral body wash as he slid under the duvet. He reached out to pull me close, but I shifted away. "Ethan, my stomach is still really cramping up. Please don't touch me tonight." He didn't push it. If anything, he let out a quiet sigh of relief, turned his back to me, and began tapping away on his screen. I didn't need to look to know he was texting Chloe. Lying in the dark with my eyes wide open, I meticulously plotted my next moves. First, I had to lock down the evidence of that sixty-thousand-dollar GoFundMe fraud. Second, I had to safeguard my home. And third, I was going to send both of those vile scumbags straight to federal prison!Early the next morning, I was jarred awake by aggressive pounding on the front door. "Open the damn door! Ethan, you lazy brat, get off your ass and open up!" That grating, screeching voice belonged to none other than my mother-in-law, Martha. A groggy Ethan stumbled over to unlock the door, and a chaotic stampede of heavy footsteps barged right in. It wasn't just Martha. Ethan's older brother, his sister-in-law Brenda, and their bratty son Leo had all marched inside. The entire pack invaded my living room like a crew of looters sacking a store. Martha slammed herself onto the sofa, propping her mud-caked sneakers right up on my glass coffee table. "Mom, what are you all doing here?" I asked, emerging from the hallway. "What? I can't visit my own son's place?" Martha snapped, her beady eyes narrowing as she glared at me with undisguised contempt. "I heard the house is selling today! I'm here to see if the wire transfer cleared." They were here to divide the loot. Leaning against the doorframe, I watched the family circus with cold eyes. "Mom, the house hasn't sold yet. We ran into a snag yesterday," Ethan quickly explained. "It didn't sell?" Brenda shrieked instantly. "Why the hell not?! My Leo is waiting on that money for his wedding deposit! His fiancée's family made it crystal clear—no cash this week, the wedding is off!" Leo, the bleached-blonde punk, was already rummaging through my refrigerator. He cracked open a can of imported soda, took one sip, and spat it directly onto my hardwood floor. "Uncle Ethan, what is this garbage? Tastes like crap. Hurry up and hand over the cash, I need to buy my new car." Staring at the sticky puddle on the floor, my fists clenched tight. "This is my home. Show some basic decency," I said coldly. "Oh, your home?" Martha jumped up, pointing a crooked finger right in my face. "You married into our family and couldn't even drop an egg, and you dare call this your house? So what if your dead parents left it to you? You belong to my son now, which means everything you own belongs to us!" "Exactly!" Brenda chimed in, sneering. "Listen to me, sister-in-law, don't be so damn selfish. Since your broken body can't give Ethan a child, hand the equity over to Leo. When Leo has a son down the line, we'll let you foster one to look after you when you're old. Isn't that doing you a favor?" A bitter laugh escaped my throat. Pure, unadulterated parasitism. They didn't just want my money; they wanted to drain every drop of my blood to feed their lazy brood. Foster his kid? Who the hell would want a bastard raised by that delinquent? Standing to the side, Ethan made no move to defend me. Instead, he put on a deeply troubled expression and looked at me pleadingly. "Babe, look, my brother's family is in a real bind. How about we just sign the closing papers today and hand over the buyer's earnest deposit to help Leo out first?" The moment Ethan opened his mouth, I knew the real trap had been sprung. He wanted to use his family's mob mentality to bully me into submission. If I refused, I was the ungrateful, cruel wife destroying family harmony. He had pulled this trick countless times before, and every time, I had backed down to keep the peace. Not today. Not ever again! "Sure," I smiled, beaming brightly. Everyone in the room froze, utterly stunned by my instant compliance. Ethan looked ecstatic. "Babe, you really mean it?!" "Of course." I walked calmly to the coffee table, picked up the glass mug sitting on it, and smashed it violently onto the floor. Shattered shards exploded everywhere, making Martha yank her feet back with a terrified yelp. "Since none of you have an ounce of shame left, this marriage is officially over!" I whipped out my phone, pulled up our family group chat, and hit the mention-all tag.