A Hundred Grand a Bow: How I Cashed Out and Walked Away from My Billionaire Husband Chapter 1

Ethan Vance threw the checkbook at my face, demanding I kneel and apologize to Mia Harper for the ninth time.

"A hundred grand per bow."

Calculating the remaining balance for my mother’s medical bills in my head, I kept my face completely blank and slammed my forehead against the floor ten times.

The moment my fingers closed around the check, the System's voice pinged in my ear.

"Congratulations, Host. You have accumulated the required funds. Would you like to initiate extraction from this world?"

Feeling a wave of absolute liberation, I slumped onto the floor.

Seeing me on the ground, Ethan sneered and tossed a sheer black lace dress at me.

"Not enough?"

"Then dance for us, darling. A striptease. Fifty grand a minute."

The moment he finished speaking, Mia, leaning against his shoulder, let out a tearful giggle. The circle of trust-fund brats around them started jeering and throwing cash at me.

"Look at her, Manhattan's biggest gold digger, Chloe Adams, selling her dignity again! Since Ethan’s paying out, I'll book the first ten minutes!"

Watching the green bills flutter down around me, I let out a bleak laugh and took a step back.

Then, right before Ethan's suddenly panicked eyes, I turned and threw myself off the yacht, plunging straight into the icy waters of the Hudson River.

This time, the gold digger Chloe doesn't want your money anymore.

* * *

When I opened my eyes, Ethan immediately leaned over, closely inspecting me.

"You're awake? Does anything hurt? Should I call the doctor?"

At the same time, the System’s voice grumbled in my ear.

"Host, you are way too impulsive!"

"I just asked if you wanted to initiate extraction, I didn't say we could leave immediately! Detaching your consciousness from this body takes seven days."

Fine. Seven days it is.

Just enough time to say goodbye to the people in this world who actually matter.

Ethan reached out and grabbed my hand. A second later, I yanked it away.

Dead silence filled the hospital room.

"Jumping into the river just like that? Your stunts are getting dramatic," he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

"I won't hold it against you this time. Take the card."

"Mia was terrified by your little stunt last night. She's in the hospital too. I need to go stay with her."

A sleek, black Centurion card gleamed against the stark white hospital sheets.

I offered a weak, exhausted smile.

Of course. Even when I nearly died right in front of him, he still thought this was all just a negotiation tactic for more money.

When I first arrived in this world on a mission, my goal was to earn three million dollars to pay for my mother's life-saving surgery back in my original reality.

I actually hit that goal right before I married Ethan.

I told the System to pay the hospital and planned to stay here, living out the rest of my life quietly by Ethan's side.

But on our wedding night, the System apologetically informed me that the exchange rate between the two dimensions had plummeted to ten-to-one. I needed to raise thirty million, or my mother would die immediately.

The very next morning, Ethan saw paparazzi photos of me hawking my own jewelry on the news.

His face turned to ice.

"Ethan, I can explain..."

"Save it. Since I married you, whatever kind of person you are, I’ll accept it."

He said it so casually, acting like he didn't care at all.

I foolishly let out a sigh of relief.

It wasn't until he started bringing women home that I understood what his "acceptance" actually looked like.

From the guest bedroom, the sounds of a couple going at it echoed down the hall.

"Ethan, you're so bad... aren't you afraid your wife will get mad?"

Ethan's voice was utterly dismissive.

"Mad? She's exactly the same kind of woman you are. What right does she have to be mad?"

"Actually, she's much worse than you. After all, she scammed her way into the title of Mrs. Vance."

I spent that entire night leaning against the wall in the hallway, crying until I had no tears left.

From that day on, the name Chloe Vance became infamous in New York's elite circles.

The rumor was that every time Ethan brought a woman home, he paid his wife a million dollars.

If I laid out the condoms for them, that was a five-hundred-thousand-dollar bonus.

If I personally held an umbrella and walked his mistresses to their Ubers in the rain, another three hundred thousand.

Every single time, I shamelessly took the money. And every single time, Ethan's disgust for me deepened.

But I still held onto a tiny shred of hope. I thought, if he just knew the truth, maybe he'd believe me.

Until Mia Harper showed up.

She was an Ivy League graduate, a self-proclaimed idealist.

The young girl despised the way Ethan threw money at his problems, and mocked me for being a useless, parasitic gold digger.

Yesterday on the yacht, after she "accidentally" stepped on and tore my couture gown, she pulled a thick stack of ten-dollar bills out of her beat-up tote bag and told me to count it.

When I refused to count her petty cash, she clenched her fists, her eyes welling up with stubborn tears.

"Mrs. Vance, what is this supposed to mean? Are you looking down on me?"

"I'm not like you. I might not have money, but at least I have a spine."

Ethan looked at her with pure, undisguised admiration.

To coax a smile out of her, he physically forced me to my knees on the yacht's deck and ordered me to bow.

"Chloe, don't you love money more than anything?"

"Keep bowing until Mia laughs. If she's happy, I don't care how much it costs."

My gaze drifted back to the black card on the bed. My face was completely devoid of emotion as I tossed it back at his chest.

"Keep it."