Divorcing The Ruthless Billionaire Husband

Averie found her mother pacing frantically near the billing and admissions desk of the Mount Sinai emergency room. Brenda Boggs looked haggard, her face streaked with tears and cheap mascara.

The moment she saw Averie, she lunged forward, clutching her arm like a lifeline. "Averie, thank God!" She shoved a piece of paper into Averie's hand. It was a hospital admissions form with a figure circled in red ink.

"Five hundred thousand dollars," Brenda sobbed. "They need half a million dollars up front before they'll start the surgery!"

The number made Averie's stomach clench, but she pushed her own panic down to soothe her mother. "It's okay, Mom. Don't worry. I have it."

She walked to the payment window, her heart pounding against her ribs. From her wallet, she pulled out a sleek, black credit card. It wasn't a normal card. It was linked to a trust fund Jarett had established when they married, specifically for her family's medical emergencies. It had been his one gesture of kindness, a promise that he would protect them. It was her only hope.

She slid the card under the glass to the clerk. "Hi, I need to pay a five-hundred-thousand-dollar deposit."

The clerk, a tired-looking woman with weary eyes, took the card and swiped it through the machine. A sharp, negative beep echoed in the tense quiet of the waiting area.

She frowned and tried again. Same result.

"I'm sorry, ma'am," the clerk said, her voice flat. "This card is being declined."

Averie stared at her. "That's impossible. Try it again. The limit is more than enough."

The clerk swiped it one last time before sliding it back to her. "The system says 'Transaction denied by issuing bank, cardholder authorization required.' You'll have to call your bank."

A cold dread began to creep up Averie's spine. She stepped away from the window, her hands shaking as she dialed Jarett's number.

It rang and rang, each tone stretching her nerves tighter, before clicking over to his voicemail.

She hung up and immediately called back. This time, it went straight to voicemail. He had rejected her call.

Sweat beaded on her forehead. His threat from earlier echoed in her mind.see how long your gambling-addict father lasts...

A terrible, sickening realization began to dawn. This wasn't a mistake.

With trembling fingers, she dialed her last resort: Simon Vance, Jarett's executive assistant.

He answered on the second ring, his voice as calm and detached as ever. "Mrs. Sharp. Good evening."

Averie spoke in a rush, the words tumbling out. "Simon, it's my father. He's in the ER, he needs emergency surgery, but the medical trust card was declined. I can't reach Jarett, can you please-"

"I'm very sorry to hear about your father, Mrs. Sharp," Simon interrupted, his tone polite but utterly devoid of sympathy. "Regarding the trust, Mr. Sharp issued a new directive this afternoon."

The blood drained from Averie's face. "What directive?"

Simon's voice was like a machine. "Any expenditure over ten thousand dollars now requires Mr. Sharp's personal, verbal authorization. The bank will not release the funds without it."

This afternoon. He had planned this. After seeing her preparations for their anniversary, knowing she would be vulnerable, he had set this trap.

"Simon, please," she begged, her voice cracking. The humiliation was a bitter taste in her mouth. "This is life or death. You have to tell him. I'm begging you. Just get his approval."

"I am sorry, Mrs. Sharp," Simon said, and she knew he wasn't sorry at all. "Mr. Sharp is currently occupied with an important matter and cannot be disturbed. I will pass along your message, but I cannot guarantee when he will respond."

An important matter. Candida.

The knowledge was a physical weight, crushing the air from her lungs. Her husband was with another woman while her father was dying, and he was deliberately, cruelly, holding the key to his survival just out of her reach.