The Philanthropist's Husband My Wife's Charity Was My Ruin
Chapter 1
My wife was a famous saint. She earned $6,800 a month and donated every last cent to charity.
Household expenses, her parents' medical bills, our son's tuition, the mortgage. All of it fell on me.
My paycheck never stretched far enough, so I went to Wendy to talk it over：
“Could you maybe keep a little of your salary for the family each month?”
She got angry：
“I earned that money. I can donate it if I want to. Why do you think you get a say in that?”
Her parents jumped right in：
“Our daughter is a celebrated philanthropist. You should be proud of her, not scheming to take her money and ruin her reputation. What kind of man are you? How can you be so selfish?”
Even our five-year-old son turned on me：
“Daddy won't let Mommy be a good person. Daddy's mean!”
I nodded and didn't argue.
The next day, I signed up for my company's six-month intensive training program.
I wanted to see how this whole family of saints would get by without their selfish villain around.
——
On payday, Wendy Pruitt came home from work and immediately posted on social media：
“This month's donation: $168,000. Just doing my small part.”
She attached screenshots of her donation receipt and the certificate the charity had awarded her.
The likes and comments poured in：
“Wendy's incredible! Not just her salary, she even donated her year-end bonus!”
“Every penny of her paycheck, every single month. Now THAT'S a real philanthropist. Respect.”
“Bless her heart. Good things come to good people.”
Her parents were quick to like and comment too：“That's our girl! So proud of you!”
I sighed, closed out of the feed, and opened my budget spreadsheet.
This month I had to pay our son's tuition, cover Mr. Pruitt Sr. and Mrs. Pruitt Sr.'s medical bills, make the mortgage payment, and pay off last month's credit card balance from household expenses……
Even if I poured every dollar of my salary into it, I'd still come up $8,000 short.
Same as always.
Every month around this time, the bills closed in like a blade against my throat, and I couldn't breathe.
I took a deep breath and turned to look at Wendy on the couch.
She was still scrolling through her feed, smiling every few seconds. Probably more people praising her.
After going back and forth in my head, I finally spoke up：
“Wendy, I need to talk to you about something.”
She didn't look up from her phone：“Go ahead.”
I paused, keeping my voice steady：
“There are too many expenses this month. Even if I put my entire salary toward them, we're still $8,000 short.”
“Could you stop donating everything and keep some of it for the family?”
Wendy's thumb stopped mid-scroll.
She looked up at me as if I'd said something absolutely absurd：
“I work hard for that money. I'll donate it if I want to. You think you get to control that?”
I tried to explain：
“I'm not trying to stop you from donating. I just want you to keep a little for the family.”
“Your dad has a heart condition. Your mom has diabetes and needs daily insulin. Our son has tuition. We still have the mortgage. The expenses are too much. I can't cover all of it on my salary alone.”
Wendy scoffed, completely righteous：
“If you can't cover it, work harder.”
“People only think I'm noble because I give everything. Why should I hold back just because you're too lazy to pull your weight?”
I stared at her. I honestly could not believe those words had come out of her mouth.
I'd been working overtime, burning through late nights, for years, all to bring in more money for this family.
I hadn't slept a full night in longer than I could remember. I didn't even take a day off when I was sick.
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