He Said I Was Greedy, I Showed Him The 500 Transfer Chapter 01

I blew up online because I bought cremation urns on a two-for-one bundle online.

Two-pack discount. Eighty bucks off.

A reporter figured out I was married to a billionaire and shoved a mic in my face: Why couldn’t I afford a casket?

I held up my phone and smiled.

“Callum gives me five hundred a month.”

“Guess he figures I won’t take up much room once I’m dead. Kid-sized should do it.”

The clip went viral overnight. That night, Callum Hastings came home for the first time in three years.

He ripped my receipt in half.

“Ten million a month and it’s still not enough? You’re unbelievable.”

Five years ago, when he had nothing left, I took thirty million from a rival company and walked out the door. I took his last shot at saving himself right along with me.

He clawed his way to the top of the Forbes list. Then he did everything in his power to make me his wife.

He locked me inside this mansion and gave me five hundred dollars a month to live on.

No freedom. No love. I couldn’t even order takeout.

Every meal, every piece of clothing, every little thing I needed went through his housekeeper, Ms. Hart.

In three years, I’d racked up $1.16 million in medical debt alone.

I laughed. The kind of laugh that comes out when you’re too furious to scream.

“Well, since you’re here, how about reimbursing me that eighty bucks? I’ll buy two painkillers and try not to die before your mythical ten million shows up.”

Callum’s jaw tightened. “You never stop with the act, do you?”

Something in me snapped. I shoved the transfer records at him. “You want to talk about pretending? Look at these.”

“You play the devoted husband for the cameras, then throw me five hundred a month. I could make more begging on a street corner.”

Callum went still when he saw the records. He yanked out his phone. “Look. I transfer ten million every single month.”

The front door clicked open. Ms. Hart walked in with a fresh Hermès bag tucked under her arm.

“Mrs. Hastings, you’ve already gone through this month’s five hundred. Don’t forget to log the medication.”

…

There was no wedding when Callum and I got married.

His driver picked me up from my rental apartment, drove me to City Hall to sign the papers, and dropped me off at Ridgeview Estate. That was it.

The first thing he did was take my ID and passport and lock them in the safe in his study.

“When do I get those back?”

He shut the safe.

“When I’m sure you won’t run again.”

My chest hollowed out. “How long are you going to punish me for something that happened five years ago?”

“Till I’m dead.”

He stepped closer and straightened my collar.

The gesture was the same as it used to be. His eyes weren’t.

“Mira. You took thirty million from a rival company and walked out on me when I had nothing left.”

“Now I have money.”

“Don’t you love money?”

“I’m going to make you sit on top of every dollar the Hastings family owns and pay back what you owe me. One cent at a time.”

He flew out of the country the next morning.

Before he left, he set three rules.

I couldn’t work.

I couldn’t leave the estate without permission.

Ms. Hart would handle everything: food, clothes, whatever I needed.

I asked him.

“And if I need to buy something?”

“Ask Ms. Hart.”

“What if I want to go somewhere on my own?”

He looked at me like the question was funny.

“Mira. You really think I married you so you could play rich wife?”

The first month’s deposit hit my account. Five hundred dollars.

From Ms. Hart.

The memo said [Living expenses].

I stared at the number.

“For the whole month?”

Ms. Hart nodded.

“Mr. Hastings said food and clothes are covered, so five hundred should be plenty.”

“What if it’s not?”

She hesitated.

“Mr. Hastings also said… you’ve already cost him enough when it comes to money.”

“He told me to remind you not to push your luck.”

I turned off my phone.

That sounded exactly like Callum.

He put me in the most expensive house in the city, then handed me five hundred dollars a month to make sure I never forgot what that thirty million cost him.

That first month, I didn’t buy clothes. Didn’t buy jewelry.

I went to the hospital to get an old stomach injury checked.

Between the co-pay, tests, and medication, the bill came to four hundred eighty-six dollars.

The doctor stared at my scan for a long time.

“We really should do a CT with contrast as well.”

“How much?”

“About three thousand.”

I checked my balance.

Fourteen dollars left.

“Can I come back next month?”

The doctor frowned.

“You can’t put this off.”

“Is there someone at home who can help coordinate your care?”

I nodded.

Back at the estate, I handed the paperwork to Ms. Hart.

“Can you ask Callum if I can get an advance on next month’s money?”

Ms. Hart took the form.

“Mrs. Hastings… Mr. Hastings doesn’t respond well when people bring up health issues. He thinks it’s a tactic.”

“I actually need this.”

“I know.”

She sighed.

“But I don’t think he’ll believe that.”

Half an hour later, she came back. Request denied.

That night, the pain wouldn’t let me sleep.

Ms. Hart brought me two painkillers from the medicine cabinet.

“Take these for now.”

“Where’d you get these?”

“I’ll put them on your tab for now.”

“Who told you to keep a tab?”

She wouldn’t meet my eyes.

“Mr. Hastings said every cent over budget has to be documented.”

I swallowed them.

They caught in my throat, chalky and bitter enough to numb my tongue.

I texted Callum.

[Can I get a little more for living expenses?]

He didn’t reply for half an hour.

[Already complaining about the money? We just got married.]

I started typing.

[I need to go to the hospital.]

Before I could hit send, his second message came through.

[Don’t give me another reason to lose respect for you, Mira.]