My Billionaire Husband Sent $500K. I Got $300.

Chapter 1

Four months pregnant, I took a night job cleaning tables at my husband's casino. On my very first shift, they sent me to the VIP suite. My husband was inside, a glass of whiskey in his hand. "Five hundred grand a month," he laughed coldly, "and my wife still says she's starving." I had eaten one stale bagel in two days. So I walked in and slapped him. The crack echoed off the gold-trimmed walls. Two of his security guards lunged forward. Enzo Vitale, the most feared man on the Las Vegas Strip, lifted one hand, and they froze. A red print bloomed across his cheek. He stared at me in my cheap black uniform like he was looking at a ghost. "Hazel?" My whole body was shaking. "How many wives do you have, Enzo?" His jaw locked. His eyes went bloodshot. "Only you." "Then why the hell do I get three hundred dollars a month?" ... Let me back up. Three weeks earlier, I was locked in a gas station bathroom, staring at a $1.99 pregnancy test. Two pink lines. The room tilted. I grabbed the sink so I wouldn't fall. I snapped a photo and sent it to my best friend, Maddie. Her reply came in four seconds. "WHAT. Hazel, you can't even afford groceries!!" Then: "Please tell me you were on birth control." I wasn't. The pill cost forty dollars a month. My entire monthly allowance was three hundred. It was the pill or food, and food won. Besides, Enzo had always wanted a baby. I just never thought it would happen like this. My stomach growled so loudly it echoed off the tiles. Maddie sent me fifty dollars without another word. I walked to the bakery on the corner and dug through the day-old bin, where everything was seventy-five percent off. A squashed bagel. A carton of milk that expired tomorrow. I ate it standing on the sidewalk. And the whole thing hit me as so ridiculous that I almost laughed. I was Mrs. Enzo Vitale. My husband owned three casinos and half the skyline. I lived in a twelve-million-dollar house in Summerlin. And I was waiting for bread to go stale so I could afford it. Fourteen months ago, my father owed the Vitale Grand two million dollars in gambling debts. Enzo's men came to collect. I threw myself between them and my father, and Enzo, cold and beautiful in his black suit, just looked at me for a long time. "Marry me," he said, "and the debt disappears." On our wedding night, he kissed my forehead. "You're a Vitale now. You'll never be afraid of money again." I believed him. I wiped the crumbs from my mouth and called him. Of course, it was Sienna who answered. Sienna Russo. His executive assistant. His mother's goddaughter. The woman who managed our household account, and the woman who sent me my three hundred dollars every month. "Mrs. Vitale." Her voice was sugar over broken glass. "Your allowance went out on the first." "I know." I kept my voice steady. "I'm pregnant. I just need a little extra. For prenatal vitamins." Silence. Then a soft, delighted laugh. "Last month it was dizzy spells. Now it's a baby?" She clicked her tongue. "Enzo's money isn't a slot machine, sweetie. You don't get to keep pulling the lever." The line went dead. I'd tried, once, to fix it myself. I got a job at a coffee shop off Charleston. Two days later, Enzo bought the entire shop and shut it down. "My wife doesn't serve coffee to strangers," he told me icily. He wouldn't let me work. And he never gave me another cent. I pressed a hand to my flat, hungry stomach. Then I made an appointment at a free clinic. I needed to know how much it would cost to keep my baby. And how much it would cost not to.

Chapter 2

"You're almost fourteen weeks along." The doctor frowned at the screen, then at my chart. "The baby's developing fine. You, on the other hand, are severely malnourished. Your iron is dangerously low. When was the last time you ate a real meal?" I didn't answer. I couldn't remember. That explained why I hadn't noticed. My periods had been a mess for months. Hunger does that. I hesitated, staring at the little gray blur on the monitor. "How much does it cost to... end it?" The doctor's face softened with something close to pity. "Around twelve hundred. Does your husband know you're considering this?" I looked down at my hands. I had forty-six dollars in my account. I walked out clutching the ultrasound printout and took the bus straight to Vitale Resorts headquarters. If Enzo saw it with his own eyes, he'd have to believe me. I never made it past the lobby. Sienna stepped out of the elevator like she'd been waiting for me. Red-soled heels. Tailored white suit. A Cartier bracelet that cost more than my father's house. "Mrs. Vitale." Loud enough for the whole lobby to hear. "Mr. Vitale is in a meeting." "Please." I held out the printout. "I really am pregnant. If I keep the baby, I need help." She plucked it from my fingers, glanced at it, and let it flutter to the marble floor. "Wow. You actually bought a fake ultrasound." She laughed. "What's next month? A fake miscarriage, so you can bill us for that too?" Around us, phones came out. "Isn't that the wife?" "She's faking a pregnancy for money? Oh my God." "Poor Enzo. She's treating him like an ATM." Every word pushed my head lower. I bent down and picked up my baby's picture with shaking fingers. Sienna turned to the front desk. "From now on, no freeloaders get past security." I walked out with my face burning. On the bus, my phone lit up with Sienna's Instagram. She had two million followers. Today's post was her on a yacht in Cabo, champagne in hand. Worked hard. Played harder. #selfmade 💅 I put the phone away. Then I looked down at my wrist. The diamond bracelet Enzo gave me on my birthday. Custom-made. One of a kind. The only expensive thing I had left that Sienna hadn't "kept safe" for me. I got off at the next stop and walked into a pawn shop. The man saw how desperate I was and offered nine thousand dollars for a sixty-thousand-dollar bracelet. I took it. For one night, I slept without my stomach clenching in fear. The next morning, a photo of me handing the bracelet over the counter was everywhere. VITALE WIFE PAWNS DIAMONDS — IS THE MARRIAGE OVER? Sienna reposted it with an eye-roll emoji: Some people just can't handle a good man. The comments were vicious. Gold digger. Her dad's a gambling addict. Like father, like daughter. She's cashing out before the divorce. Then Enzo called. His voice was low and cold. "You pawned my gift?" "Enzo, I—" "Sienna told me about your little stunt at the office. The fake ultrasound." A sharp breath. "If you need money, go through her. And if you want to run, at least don't humiliate me while you do it." Every word I wanted to say died in my throat. "Understood," I whispered. He hung up. Ten minutes later, the nine thousand dollars vanished from my account. So did the last of Maddie's fifty. A text from Sienna: Mr. Vitale has asked me to manage your funds, since you clearly can't. 😊 The next morning, I woke up to the sound of a truck backing into my driveway. Movers poured into the house. The leather sofa. The TV. The espresso machine I'd never been allowed to buy beans for. The paintings Enzo chose himself. Even our bed. Even the fridge, with my half carton of expired milk still inside. Sienna stood in my doorway with a clipboard, checking things off with a little smile. "Don't miss anything," she told the movers. "Otherwise she'll strip the place and sell it behind his back."

Chapter 3

When the truck pulled away, the house echoed. I sat on the bare floor where our bed used to be. A year ago, Enzo had walked me through every room, pointing at everything he'd picked out for me. "This is yours. All of it. Nobody will ever take anything from you again." I laughed until it turned into something else. That night, a job listing popped up on my phone. Vitale Grand. Overnight cleaning crew. $22/hr plus tips. Nobody looks at the cleaners. In one month, I'd have enough to decide about the baby on my own. The interview took five minutes. The supervisor hired me on the spot. I made it to the parking lot before everything went black. I woke up with an IV in my arm. "You fainted from hunger," a young nurse said softly. "I've never seen a pregnant woman pass out from starvation. Where's your husband?" "I don't have one," I said. Her face filled with pity. "Honey, your baby needs you to eat." I called Enzo three times from that hospital bed. Declined. Declined. Declined. Maddie paid my bill. She was crying and cursing on the phone. "I'm driving over to that man's office and keying his Lamborghini." "Don't," I begged. "I'll talk to him tonight. About the baby." But when I got home, Enzo was already there. He was in the kitchen, plating steak. My favorite. He looked up, annoyed. "There's nothing in this house to eat. Is this how you live now?" The smell of grease hit me. I barely made it to the bathroom before I threw up. He followed me, frowning. "What's wrong with you? You look terrible." He handed me a glass of water. "Since when are you so delicate?" I rinsed my mouth and stood up, gripping the wall. "Give me some money." The silence stretched. Then he laughed, short and cold. "The three calls today. Money too?" "Yes." His eyes went flat as ice. "You never change. Your father would be proud." He grabbed his coat and stopped at the door. "I'll have Sienna send it." The door slammed so hard the empty walls shook. The next morning: $100. And a message from Sienna: Mr. Vitale says if you beg again, next month's allowance gets cut in half. I stared at it for a long time. Then I texted my husband. If you can't afford to keep me, let's get a divorce. That night, I clocked in for my first shift. My supervisor squinted at me, then at her phone. "Huh. You look just like that Vitale wife from the news." I tied my apron. "If I were his wife, would I be here?" She snorted. "Fair. Take this bottle up to the VIP suite. Hurry." The VIP suite was at the end of a long, gold hallway. The door was cracked open. I heard his voice before I saw him. Enzo was sprawled on a velvet couch, shirt open at the collar, a faint flush in his cheeks. "Five hundred grand a month," he said, "and my wife still says she's starving." Marco, his right-hand man, nearly choked. "Five hundred? A month?" "Last night she cried broke, so I wired another hundred grand." Enzo's laugh was bitter. "This morning she asked for a divorce. Said if I couldn't afford her, don't bother." Marco lowered his voice. "Boss... Sienna says she's at the clubs every night. You think she's got someone on the side?" Enzo's hand tightened around his glass. I stood in that doorway, holding a two-thousand-dollar bottle of champagne, with a hundred dollars to my name. If it wasn't me spending that money... Then who was? I walked in. I slammed the bottle down. Glass and champagne exploded across the floor. And I slapped my husband across the face. "How many wives do you have, Enzo?" His eyes burned red. "Only you." "Then why do I get three hundred dollars a month?" The color drained out of his face. Behind me, the door swung open. "Enzo, darling, the gaming commission called—" Sienna stopped dead. Around her throat, glittering under the chandelier, was my anniversary necklace. The one with my initials engraved on the clasp. The one that "disappeared" from my jewelry box six months ago. Then a cramp tore through my stomach. Something warm ran down my leg. I looked down. Blood.