Given to a Beggar: A Marriage's Darkest Secret

Dylan probably thought my father's moves were just a small warning.

When his company's stock price started fluctuating abnormally, he was still fuming, convinced that I would soon calm down, come crawling back to him in tears, begging him not to abandon me and our child.

He was too arrogant.

And he had no idea just how much hatred a woman who had been completely shattered could unleash.

Dylan didn't get my surrender. Instead, he got a death knell.

Nora's doctor called, voice urgent. "Mr. Larson, Ms. Barton's condition has suddenly worsened! Conventional treatments aren't working anymore! We've urgently contacted an overseas institution. They have an experimental drug that might help, but we need to transfer 50 million immediately to airlift it here! Otherwise, Ms. Barton might not make it through the month."

50 million.

Dylan immediately called his CFO, ordering him to pull the funds from the company account.

The CFO's voice trembled on the other end. "Mr. Larson, we can't! Our major investors just withdrew their capital. All our accounts are under bank supervision now!"

Dylan's heart sank. A terrible premonition settled over him.

He tried tapping into his personal assets, only to find every bank account and line of credit frozen.

Before he could process it, his office door slammed open.

His PR director, face pale, rushed in and shoved a phone in his face.

"Mr. Larson, we have a major crisis!"

On the screen was the real-time trending topics.

"Dylan, CEO of Larson Group, accused of deceit and harming his wife."

A glaring red "breaking news" tag followed.

The top video showed a disheveled man sobbing into the camera, exposing how Dylan had paid him to mimic his mannerisms and sleep with his wife.

Below, crystal-clear bank transfer records and a detailed, dozens-page-long imitation manual were attached.

The evidence was irrefutable.

Dylan stared at the screen, mind blank.

The image he had maintained for eight years as the affectionate and genteel CEO was shattered in that instant.

He finally understood that Claudia wasn't throwing a tantrum.

She was executing a long-planned public execution.

The phone rang again.

The hospital's payment reminder call came through again, sounding like a death knell.

On his computer screen, an email popped up from the board of directors, demanding his immediate resignation.

Despair swallowed Dylan whole.

He frantically dialed my number, but the receiver only offered the cold, automated message. "The number you have dialed is powered off."

At the same time, I was lounging comfortably in the VIP bed of a private hospital room. The doctor had just finished a detailed prenatal checkup.

"Ms. Wallace, don't worry. Both you and the baby are perfectly healthy."

I thanked him with a smile and picked up my phone.

The screen showed dozens of missed calls and messages from Dylan.

The latest one, dripping with his trademark condescending command. "Claudia, I order you to pick up the phone!"

I looked at the words, a light chuckle escaping my lips. I didn't reply.

I waited until evening began to fall, then leisurely removed Dylan's number from the blocklist.

The phone rang almost instantly.

On the other end, Dylan's breathless voice came through.

I settled back against the soft hospital bed, gently stroking my stomach, and spoke softly into the phone. "Mr. Larson, you were looking for me?"