Her fifth daughter died, so she deleted his bloodline. novel Chapter 87

Chapter 1

Ethan Crawford noticed my silence first.

A whole week had passed without a single “Payment Request Form” appearing in the

family group chat.

He must have thought I’d finally outgrown what he saw as my petty, money-grubbing habits. That night at dinner, with a look of pure condescension, he slid a black card

across the table toward me.

“I’ve covered your father’s dialysis fees,” he said, his voice edged with cool dismissal. “Let’s not revisit these money issues again. I know your family situation is… complicated. But as Mrs. Crawford, you could at least learn not to seem quite so needy.”

What he didn’t know was that by the time my fingers brushed that cool piece of plastic, I had already signed two other documents: my organ donor consent and our divorce papers. And when I walked out later, I was still wearing the same pilled sweatshirt he’d tossed my way five years ago like one might discard an old blanket.

It would shock anyone to learn that the wife of Ethan Crawford, a man who influenced half the entertainment industry, had to photograph and submit a receipt for a five-dollar pack of tampons to his secretary for approval.

All because he was convinced a gold-digger like me couldn’t be trusted with actual

money.

Just a week earlier, when my father’s failing kidneys demanded an emergency transfusion, I had begged him for thirty thousand.

His precious “first love,” Sophie, had deliberately canceled the transfer. She’d smiled, all sugar and false sympathy, and told me she was just helping me “break the habit” of what she called my “bottomless greed.”

Ethan never knew I swallowed that humiliation daily, all to keep my father alive in his

private hospital.

Now, with the life support shut off over unpaid bills and his ashes already scattered to the wind, there was no reason left to keep playing the part of the submissive wife.

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***

My phone vibrated. A message from Ethan popped up on the screen, dripping with lofty

condescension.

[I’ve had your father’s treatment reinstated. Do us both a favor and drop the act. I know life hasn’t been fair to you, but that doesn’t make me an open

wallet.]

I stared at those lines, feeling an odd sense of calm. I replied with a single word, [K.]

Putting my phone down, I signed the divorce agreement in front of me. He probably took my three-day silence over expenses as another one of my petty tantrums, his so-called “cold war.

To be fair, for the past three years, I’d molded my entire existence around my father’s medical bills. I’d learned to shrink, to ask for permission, to exist on the conditional drip of his approval.

I had no income of my own.

Ethan forbade me from working, saying it was beneath the Crawford family for the wife

to seek employment, but he gave me no household allowance.

Every cent I spent had to go through his company’s OA system for approval. Groceries needed approval. Sanitary pads needed approval. Even a few dollars for the subway required an uploaded receipt.

The approver was his personal secretary, Sophie Allen, the woman who had been by his side since college, styling herself as his right-hand woman.

Three days ago, the hospital issued a critical condition notice. My father had a sudden cerebral hemorrhage and needed immediate surgery. Two hundred thousand.

For Ethan, that was the price of a bottle of wine. I called him frantically. After a dozen calls, he finally picked up, but it was Sophie who answered. “Summer? Ethan’s in a meeting. Is it urgent?”

I was beyond caring. Sobbing, I pleaded with her. “Sophie, please let me talk to Ethan.

My father is dying. I need two hundred thousand for his surgery!”

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Sophie gave a light laugh. “You know how strict the company procedures are, Summer.”

“Two hundred thousand requires proper documentation. You’ll need to submit a formal request through the OA system. Ethan really doesn’t appreciate it when people try to bypass the rules. Just file the paperwork, I’ll make sure it’s processed as soon as it

comes across my desk.”

The call ended.

My hands trembled so badly I could barely hold my phone as I filled out the form in that

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