My Husband Let Me Die to Save Her

I stared at the tablet on the sticky diner table. *Mother: Catherine Andrews.*

The words blurred. My chest tightened until I couldn't pull in a breath. Catherine Andrews. My own mother. The woman who abandoned me when I couldn't save my sick older brother. She had thrown Stella away first.

A hot tear slipped down my cheek. Then another. I didn't wipe them away. I let them fall.

Cassian watched me. He didn't offer empty comfort. He just sat there, a solid, dark presence across the table. His silence was an anchor.

"She knows," I whispered. My voice cracked. "Stella knows I'm her sister. She knows, and she's still doing this. She's using the sister who got kept."

"Yes," Julian said softly.

I closed my eyes. The image of Benjamin kissing Stella's hand in Paris flashed in my mind. They weren't just lovers. They were monsters. They were harvesting me.

I opened my eyes. The tears stopped. A cold, heavy stone settled in my stomach.

"Double your fee," I said. My voice was no longer shaking.

Cassian raised a dark eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"Double it," I repeated. I looked right into his eyes. "Take everything they have. Leave them with nothing. I want them to starve."

Cassian’s jaw ticked. A slow, dangerous smirk touched his lips. He adjusted his silver cufflink. "Consider it done, Penelope."

The next morning, the game began.

Benjamin was in his home office. He was rubbing his temples. I walked in wearing a silk robe. I held my tablet in my hands.

"Ben, honey," I said brightly.

He looked up. He forced a smile. He touched his wedding ring. "Yes, sweetheart? How are you feeling? Any back pain?"

"I feel perfect," I lied. My lower back throbbed with a dull ache. "But I was looking at the penthouse. It looks so dull lately. I think we need a change."

He blinked. "A change?"

"Yes!" I walked over and sat on the edge of his mahogany desk. I swung my legs. "I want to renovate the master bath. Imported Italian marble. And I need a new wardrobe for the gala season. I already called the personal shoppers at Bergdorf."

Benjamin’s smile strained. "Darling, that's going to cost a fortune. We have a lot of capital tied up right now."

"But you promised," I pouted. I traced a circle on his desk with my finger. "You said I deserved the best. Does my husband not want to spoil me?"

He swallowed hard. He needed me happy. He needed my blood pressure low. He needed my marrow.

"Of course," he said smoothly. "Whatever you want."

By Friday, I had spent two hundred thousand dollars. Boxes piled up in the hallway. Chanel. Dior. Cartier. I ripped tags off silk dresses I would never wear. I tossed diamond tennis bracelets onto my vanity like they were cheap plastic. I didn't care about any of it. Every swipe of the black card was a strike at his hidden accounts.

A week later, we sat in the dining room. The contractor had just left. The quote for the marble was astronomical.

Benjamin stared at his scotch glass. His knuckles were white.

"Actually, Ben," I said, sipping my sparkling water. "I changed my mind about the bathroom."

He let out a heavy breath. "Thank God. I mean, it was a bit excessive."

"It's not enough," I said flatly.

He froze. "What?"

"This penthouse," I sighed, looking around the massive room. "It's just too small. We've been here three years. I want a house in the Hamptons. And a bigger place in Tribeca. We should sell this place."

Benjamin choked on his scotch. He coughed, his face turning red. "Sell the penthouse? Penelope, be reasonable. The market is volatile."

"I don't care about the market," I whined. I made my voice pitch higher. "I want a garden. Don't you want a garden for our future kids?"

He flinched. We both knew I couldn't have kids. My kidneys were failing. But he couldn't say that.

"It takes time to sell," he muttered. He rubbed his face. He looked ten years older.

"I already called an agent," I said cheerfully. "She's listing it tomorrow. You just need to sign."

I slid the paperwork across the polished table. Next to it, I placed a silver pen.

Benjamin stared at the paper. He was bleeding money to Stella's private clinic. Now I was bleeding him dry at home. He picked up the pen. His hand shook slightly as he signed his name.

"Thank you, baby," I smiled.

I walked to the kitchen. My burner phone buzzed in my pocket. It was a text from Cassian.

*Property listed. Funds will route through the escrow accounts Julian set up. We have him.*

I looked back at Benjamin. He was staring blindly out the window. The rain beat against the glass. He had no idea the storm was already inside his house.