He Said I Was Greedy, I Showed Him The 500 Transfer Chapter 03

A year later, I picked up a freelance translation gig online. No one knew.

I didn’t need to show my face or step outside.

Seven thousand a month.

I knocked out the sample translation while Ms. Hart was on her break. The employer hired me the same day.

When that first direct deposit hit my account, I sat there staring at the screen.

Seven thousand wasn’t a lot.

But it was mine.

I didn’t have to beg for it, justify it, or hold my breath waiting for someone’s approval.

I booked a hospital appointment that same hour.

But the day I tried to leave, the gate wouldn’t open.

The security guard spoke to me through the glass of the gatehouse.

“Mrs. Hastings, you’re not authorized to leave today.”

“I’m going to the hospital.”

“You’ll need Ms. Hart to submit a request first.”

I called Ms. Hart.

She showed up white-faced.

“Mrs. Hastings, where did you get this money?”

“I earned it.”

“Mr. Hastings doesn’t allow you to work.”

“Did he say that?”

“Mr. Hastings left strict orders. You’re not to contact anyone outside this estate. And you definitely can’t be making money under his name.”

“I didn’t use his name.”

Ms. Hart stayed in front of the door.

“Mrs. Hastings, please. Don’t put me in this position.”

“If Mr. Hastings finds out, I can’t protect either of us.”

That afternoon, Callum called.

“You got a job?”

“Yes.”

“Quit.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re Mrs. Hastings.”

I looked out the window.

The hospital was a twenty-minute drive away. One iron gate between me and it.

“You throw me five hundred bucks a month and you won’t even let me work.”

“How exactly am I supposed to pay for a doctor?”

Two seconds of silence on the line.

“Still not enough?”

“You think it is?”

Every trace of patience left his voice.

“Mira. Don’t push me over something like this.”

“Someone’s already taking care of you.”

“Who?”

“Ms. Hart.”

One sentence, and the whole thing circled right back to where it always did.

I looked at Ms. Hart standing next to me.

She looked away.

“Callum, I want to earn my own money.”

“So that’s what this is really about? Money?”

“I want to go to the hospital.”

“Playing sick won’t work on me either.”

“I want out of this house.”

He let out a quiet laugh.

“There it is. That’s what you’ve been building up to.”

“I married you to teach you something, Mira.”

“Five years ago, you could walk away whenever you felt like it.”

“Now you can’t get past the front gate without my say-so.”

The next day, my work email was dead.

My employer said Hastings Group Legal had sent them a cease-and-desist. Apparently I’d violated some confidentiality clause tied to my marriage.

They reversed the direct deposit.

That night, the pain in my stomach tore open.

I threw up in the bathroom until I couldn’t stand.

Ms. Hart called a private doctor to the house.

He gave me an injection and left a bottle of pills.

I asked what it cost.

Ms. Hart held out the bill.

“A hundred and twenty thousand.”

I blinked. “What?”

“What kind of medicine costs a hundred and twenty thousand dollars?”

“The medicine isn’t expensive.”

“The after-hours house call, the private physician’s fee, and the VIP concierge service are all bundled.”

“Why is this on my tab?”

Ms. Hart pressed her lips together.

“Mr. Hastings said every extra cost goes on your record.”

“He wants you to see that this family has given you more than enough.”

I stared at the bill.

The number stared back at me.

A hundred and twenty thousand.

The pills in that bottle didn’t work half as well as a forty-dollar bottle of over-the-counter Advil.

Ms. Hart held out a pen.

“Mrs. Hastings, just tell him what he wants to hear.”

“If you say you were wrong, he’ll stop all of this.”

I signed.

“I can apologize.”

“But what I did five years ago wasn’t wrong.”

Ms. Hart went still.

I didn’t say anything else.

That thirty million had sat in my account for exactly nine minutes.

But I’d made a promise. Callum could never know.

Not until it was safe.