Chapter 1

Series 1 Chapter 1

My husband froze our baby’s emergency fund while the doctor was warning me about an irregular heartbeat.

"I am sorry," the billing nurse said. "This card is declined."

My hand went straight to my swollen belly.

"Please, try again," I begged. "There must be a mistake."

She did.

The red message appeared a second time.

ACCOUNT FROZEN.

An hour earlier, the ultrasound had shown an irregular heartbeat. The doctor wanted a fetal specialist to examine the baby today.

The test cost $6,800 and the hospital needed payment authorization before they could begin.

The card on the counter was our medical reserve card.

Ethan and I had put money into that account for four years. More than thirty thousand dollars sat inside it for one reason.

Emergencies.

I could not think of a greater emergency than our unborn child.

"Can you tell me why it was frozen?" I asked.

Before the nurse could answer, footsteps crossed the waiting room behind me.

I turned.

Ethan was walking toward us.Vivian Vance was beside him.

"Ethan," I gasped. I rushed toward him. "The card—"

"I know," Ethan interrupted. His voice was sharp and cold. "I froze the account."

I stopped walking. The air left my lungs.

"Why? Our baby’s heart is beating wrong.I need to pay for the test!"

"And you decided to panic and buy the most expensive test available?"

His voice carried across the waiting room.

A woman holding a sleeping toddler looked at us. A nurse near the desk lowered her eyes.

I looked at him in disbelief.

"You always have a reason to panic," Ethan said. His gaze dropped briefly to my belly before returning to my face. "You can't keep spending thousands every time you get nervous."

He began listing my failures.

The prenatal vitamins that cost twelve dollars more than the store brand.

The maternity pillow that helped me sleep.

The taxi I took after I nearly fainted on the subway.

The prepared meals I ordered during the week I could not stand without vomiting.

He remembered every dollar.

He did not mention that I still wore my old winter coat because I wanted to save money for the nursery.

He did not mention the worn strap on my handbag.

He did not mention that I had sold my grandmother’s bracelet when his company missed payroll three years ago.

Vivian touched his sleeve.

"Ethan."

For one second, I thought she was going to tell him to stop.

Instead, she looked at me with practiced sympathy.

"Clara, nobody is saying you shouldn’t get medical care."

Her hand remained on my husband’s arm.

A pale silk scarf was tied around the handle of her white handbag.

I recognized it.

I had seen the receipt on Ethan’s desk two weeks earlier.

$890.

When I asked him about it, he said it was a client expense.

Now the woman carrying his eight-hundred-and-ninety-dollar "client expense" was standing between me and a test for his unborn child.

"Clara, please calm down," Vivian said softly. Her voice was smooth. It made me sick. "Stress is very bad for the fetus."

"Ethan is simply practicing family risk management,"She held up her leather folder. "Unchecked medical bills ruin a family's wealth. We must optimize the budget."

I almost laughed.

Our child’s heartbeat was abnormal.

My husband had frozen thirty thousand dollars we had saved for emergencies.

And somehow I was the danger they needed protection from.

Ethan took a pen from his pocket.

He took a document from Vivian’s folder and placed it in front of me.

"If you believe I am unreasonable about money, let's solve the problem," Ethan said."Sign this."

I stared at the paper. It was a medical cost control agreement.

My abdomen tightened painfully. I read the bold text in the middle of the page.

[Pregnancy-related expenses above $1,000 require the husband’s approval.]

Ethan’s signature already waiting at the bottom.

He had brought another woman into a hospital to control what I could spend on our baby.

And he expected me to sign while she watched.

I slowly looked up from the paper. I looked straight into my husband’s eyes.

The anxious woman who wanted to beg for his help was gone.

"And if you’re unavailable?" I asked quietly.

Ethan looked at me as though he were offering a perfectly fair solution.

"Then you wait."

Chapter 1

Series 1 Chapter 1

My husband froze our baby’s emergency fund while the doctor was warning me about an irregular heartbeat.

"I am sorry," the billing nurse said. "This card is declined."

My hand went straight to my swollen belly.

"Please, try again," I begged. "There must be a mistake."

She did.

The red message appeared a second time.

ACCOUNT FROZEN.

An hour earlier, the ultrasound had shown an irregular heartbeat. The doctor wanted a fetal specialist to examine the baby today.

The test cost $6,800 and the hospital needed payment authorization before they could begin.

The card on the counter was our medical reserve card.

Ethan and I had put money into that account for four years. More than thirty thousand dollars sat inside it for one reason.

Emergencies.

I could not think of a greater emergency than our unborn child.

"Can you tell me why it was frozen?" I asked.

Before the nurse could answer, footsteps crossed the waiting room behind me.

I turned.

Ethan was walking toward us.Vivian Vance was beside him.

"Ethan," I gasped. I rushed toward him. "The card—"

"I know," Ethan interrupted. His voice was sharp and cold. "I froze the account."

I stopped walking. The air left my lungs.

"Why? Our baby’s heart is beating wrong.I need to pay for the test!"

"And you decided to panic and buy the most expensive test available?"

His voice carried across the waiting room.

A woman holding a sleeping toddler looked at us. A nurse near the desk lowered her eyes.

I looked at him in disbelief.

"You always have a reason to panic," Ethan said. His gaze dropped briefly to my belly before returning to my face. "You can't keep spending thousands every time you get nervous."

He began listing my failures.

The prenatal vitamins that cost twelve dollars more than the store brand.

The maternity pillow that helped me sleep.

The taxi I took after I nearly fainted on the subway.

The prepared meals I ordered during the week I could not stand without vomiting.

He remembered every dollar.

He did not mention that I still wore my old winter coat because I wanted to save money for the nursery.

He did not mention the worn strap on my handbag.

He did not mention that I had sold my grandmother’s bracelet when his company missed payroll three years ago.

Vivian touched his sleeve.

"Ethan."

For one second, I thought she was going to tell him to stop.

Instead, she looked at me with practiced sympathy.

"Clara, nobody is saying you shouldn’t get medical care."

Her hand remained on my husband’s arm.

A pale silk scarf was tied around the handle of her white handbag.

I recognized it.

I had seen the receipt on Ethan’s desk two weeks earlier.

$890.

When I asked him about it, he said it was a client expense.

Now the woman carrying his eight-hundred-and-ninety-dollar "client expense" was standing between me and a test for his unborn child.

"Clara, please calm down," Vivian said softly. Her voice was smooth. It made me sick. "Stress is very bad for the fetus."

"Ethan is simply practicing family risk management,"She held up her leather folder. "Unchecked medical bills ruin a family's wealth. We must optimize the budget."

I almost laughed.

Our child’s heartbeat was abnormal.

My husband had frozen thirty thousand dollars we had saved for emergencies.

And somehow I was the danger they needed protection from.

Ethan took a pen from his pocket.

He took a document from Vivian’s folder and placed it in front of me.

"If you believe I am unreasonable about money, let's solve the problem," Ethan said."Sign this."

I stared at the paper. It was a medical cost control agreement.

My abdomen tightened painfully. I read the bold text in the middle of the page.

[Pregnancy-related expenses above $1,000 require the husband’s approval.]

Ethan’s signature already waiting at the bottom.

He had brought another woman into a hospital to control what I could spend on our baby.

And he expected me to sign while she watched.

I slowly looked up from the paper. I looked straight into my husband’s eyes.

The anxious woman who wanted to beg for his help was gone.

"And if you’re unavailable?" I asked quietly.

Ethan looked at me as though he were offering a perfectly fair solution.

"Then you wait."