I clutched my daughter tighter against my chest, my voice rising to a desperate shout. "Move! My daughter has a high fever—she needs medical attention now!"
The guard's expression didn't flicker.
"Apologies. Until you've repaid the eight hundred eighty thousand dollars in bride price, you're not taking a single step outside. If you run, Mr. Sanchez will hold us accountable for that debt. Please don't make this difficult."
Ice spread through my veins. Something in my mind detonated.
Eight hundred eighty thousand in bride price.
Everyone said I'd struck gold marrying Cyril Sanchez—a sparrow landing on a phoenix branch, destined for a lifetime of luxury as a wealthy man's wife.
But no one knew the truth.
Because of one offhand remark from Ruth: "If she really loved you, she wouldn't spend a single cent of your money. Otherwise, what makes her different from all those gold-diggers after the Sanchez fortune?"
From our wedding day until now, every expense of mine fell outside the household budget.
The haute couture gowns for galas. The glittering jewelry. Even the luxury car that drove us to events together—
Ruth would extend her palm the moment the party ended, demanding I pay for the ride.