The Perfect Husband's Receipt Trap A Wife's Revenge

"She needs a receipt for a six-hundred-and-eighty-dollar meal fee? She must be out of her mind broke."

"No way. I know that family. Her husband's supposedly amazing to her. Twenty thousand a month in household money, every single month without fail."

"Then why is she being so cheap? Don't tell me she's blowing all twenty grand on herself."

Under the weight of those stares, I sent the receipt I'd begged for to Irvin and got back six hundred and eighty dollars.

Once the fee was paid, I couldn't bear to stand there a second longer. I turned and left without looking back.

On the way home, I was scrolling through Instagram when I saw Loretta's latest post.

"So grateful to my son for these supplements! I've been dreaming about these for ages!"

I recognized the brand in the photo. A single box cost three thousand dollars, and Irvin had bought his mother five of them in one go.

My grip tightened around my phone. I stared at the screen until my eyes burned.

After I got home and put Tommy to sleep, I finally let myself open Loretta's post again.

It wasn't just the supplements Irvin had bought her. There were also screenshots of transfers he'd made to Loretta and to Susan.

I stared at that post for a long time. And then, out of nowhere, the memory hit me. Standing at the preschool gate, practically groveling, begging Irvin for six hundred and eighty dollars.

Six hundred and eighty dollars for a meal fee, and he'd dragged his feet and made excuses. But three-thousand-dollar supplements for his mother? He hadn't even blinked.

My chest felt tight. Almost without thinking, I opened my chat history with Irvin.

I scrolled up. The screen was packed with photos of receipts, one after another after another.

"Apples, $36. Approved."

"Kids' toothpaste, $22. Approved."

"Soy sauce, $9.80. No receipt. Denied."

None of the amounts were large.

But for every single one, I had to pay out of pocket first, log it, explain it, and then wait on pins and needles for his verdict. Approved or denied.

I stared at those photos, my fingers trembling, and tapped on the transfer records in Loretta's post.

The next second, I went completely still.

"Transfer to Mom: $15,000."

"Transfer to Susan: $10,000."

My mind went blank.

So not everything required a receipt. Irvin wasn't incapable of spending money, and he wasn't stingy.

He just couldn't bring himself to spend it on me and our son.

I stared at my phone, a slow sting building behind my eyes.

Right then, my phone buzzed. A voice message from my mom.

I tapped it open. Her voice came through, thin and strained.

"Gracie, I'm fine. My stomach's just acting up a little. I took a couple of painkillers. It'll pass. Don't worry about me. Just take care of Tommy."

Her forced cheerfulness made my chest clench.

Mom's stomach problems were nothing new. They'd been flaring up on and off for years. At their worst, she'd be drenched in cold sweat in the middle of the night, doubled over, unable to straighten her back.

I'd tried to get her to go to the hospital for a proper checkup, but she always refused.

The only reason she'd even texted me tonight was because the last time she'd had an episode, I'd pressured her into going.

I called her immediately.

"Mom, you didn't go to the hospital again, did you?"

Two seconds of silence. Then her voice came through, weak.

"What do I need the hospital for? It's the same old thing. Why waste that kind of money?"

"How is it a waste?"

The words rushed out of me.

"You're in this much pain and you still won't go? What if something serious happens? What am I supposed to do then?"

Mom sighed.

"The doctor already said last time. An endoscopy, medication, rest. All of it costs money. You're not exactly flush yourself. I don't want to be a burden."

My throat closed up. For a long time, I couldn't say a word.