Seven Months Pregnant, I Stole Husband's Three Thousand, He Jailed Me

I froze for a second.

My stomach was already twisting with hunger.

It was rare for me to feel this desperate, and my voice came out almost pleading.

"Jeffrey, can we let it go this once?"

"No."

"Jeffrey..."

I stared at him blankly.

He kept the payment code on his phone turned squarely toward me.

"We agreed. My money is my money."

"I..."

"One more thing."

Jeffrey scrolled through his own account.

"After you passed out at the station, there was still two hundred and fifty in medical fees.

"The policewoman covered it. I paid her back for you.

"When are you planning to pay me back?"

My hand clenched tight around the hem of my shirt.

The other rested awkwardly on my belly.

"I don't have any money."

My voice was so small I could barely hear it myself.

"If you don't have money."

Jeffrey sighed.

"Then you don't get to eat this meal."

"Jeffrey, I..."

"Wendy Whitney, clear it away."

"Wait!"

My hand pressed down on Wendy's arm.

I turned back to him, eyes red.

"Can I put it on a tab?"

Jeffrey didn't answer.

My voice cracked into tears.

"I'm begging you..."

Wendy's hand stopped where it was.

She glanced at Jeffrey, unsure.

"Fine."

"Thank you."

The next second.

The calculator on Jeffrey's phone was in front of my face.

"Based on the current bank lending rate, I'll charge you three percent annual interest, zero point two five percent monthly.

"Your nutrition costs and hospital fees come to six hundred dollars total.

"If you pay it off within three months, in the end you'll owe me

"six hundred and four dollars and fifty cents."

My voice wouldn't stop shaking.

"Do you really have to work it out this precisely with me?"

Jeffrey narrowed his eyes.

"Not precise enough."

My fist trembled faintly.

I forced the words out.

"I can't come up with that much..."

"Then leave it owing. Interest on interest."

An IOU was set on the table.

"Pay in three months, it's six hundred and four fifty.

"Pay in six months, it's six hundred and nine.

"Pay in a year, it's six hundred eighteen.

"When you pay, that's when the amount gets set. Work it out yourself.

"If you agree, sign, and eat."

I looked at that IOU.

The room swam in front of me.

My stomach was already cramping from hunger.

With a shaking hand I picked up the pen.

The moment I signed my name.

Jeffrey set a bowl of porridge in front of me.

"That's fine now."

The porridge smelled good.

It was hot.

It was the best bowl of porridge I'd had in my whole life.

But I drank it crying.

When the meal was over.

I was the one who washed the dishes.

I knocked on the door of Jeffrey's study.

"The dishes are all done. That's five dollars in wages for me."

He didn't look up.

"Mm."

"If there's nothing else you need me to do, I'm going to rest."

"Fine."

I turned, one hand braced on the small of my back.

"Augusta Henson."

I looked back.

Another agreement was laid on the table.

"The allocation of usage rights for each area of the house. Jean drew up the agreement."

I picked it up, unable to believe it.

I read the terms out, one by one.

"The first, second, and third floors are all the private property of Party A, Jeffrey Mason.

"Any usage by Party B, Augusta Henson, incurs a fee of thirty dollars per hour.

"Except for housework, every other activity incurs a usage fee, including simply passing through."

"If you have no questions, sign it."

Jeffrey held the pen out to me.

I set the agreement down.

"Jeffrey, are you telling me I have to pay you rent even to sleep?"

"You don't have to sleep in my areas."

I went still for a beat.

He pointed at the supplementary clause.

"The fourth-floor attic is a shared marital area for both Party A and Party B. Usage by Party B, Augusta Henson, is free of charge."

"The attic..."

My voice shook.

"It's only forty square feet, and it's piled full of junk..."

Jeffrey didn't look up.

"Then you can keep writing IOUs."

I stopped talking.

I lowered my head.

I signed at the bottom.

As I finished the last stroke.

My tears struck the page too.

"It's signed."

He took it.

The pad of his thumb brushed that little smear of tears.

He didn't care.