My mother had a rare disease. After months of dead ends, I found one person in the country who could treat her.

She told me there was a price. She said she needed a husband.

I agreed. For my mother, I agreed. For six years I was her ATM.

I bought her the bags. I bought her the watches.

It got worse. She used my money to keep a kept man. She brought him into our bed. The day my mother had her last surgery, she walked out of the operating room halfway through to go celebrate her lover's birthday.

The moment they pronounced my mother dead, I decided there and then, she was paying for that with her life.

Six years ago, my mother was diagnosed with a rare condition. She had weeks at most.

There was one doctor in the country who could treat it. Her name was Diana Crane.

I called every contact I had just to get a meeting. The first sentence out of her mouth was,

"I'll treat her, but I have one condition."

I said the obvious thing. "Money is not a problem."

My father had died when I was three. My mother had raised me alone. I was finally established in business when she got sick. For her, I would have spent every cent I had.

Diana shook her head. "Not money. I need a husband."

I clenched my teeth and agreed.

For her to live, I would have done anything.

It was not a bad trade on paper. Diana was three years older, a medical doctor, and attractive.

At the start, we kept up appearances. I handled her family obligations. She treated my mother.

Then I started to notice.

The supplementary card on my account was being used for hundred-thousand-dollar spending sprees. Within six months, Diana was dressed head to toe in luxury brands. The house was filled with designer bags and watches she barely used.

I let it go. My mother still needed her. Compared to my mother's life, the money meant nothing.

Besides, women like to spend. Spending on your own wife isn't a big deal.

However, her appetite kept growing.

Even six-figure purchases were no longer enough. When I went to pay a supplier, I realized the card–with a two-million balance–could not be used at all.

That night, I came home early to ask what she had bought.

The moment I opened the door, I saw Diana leaning in the arms of a young man.

They were holding hands, lips pressed together, completely absorbed in each other.

Marco grinned. "Thanks for the car, babe. The guys are going to be insanely jealous."

Diana did not care. "It's just a car, Marco. Stay with me, and you'll have whatever you want."

Marco wrapped an arm around her waist, his voice soft. "I don't want anything. I just want you."

They were about to kiss again.

I could not hold it in anymore. I strode forward.

"Diana, you used my money to buy him a car?"

Neither of them moved apart.

Marco looked at me sideways, his face full of disdain. "So this is your useless husband?"

Useless?

So that's how she talked about me behind my back.

A surge of anger shot to my head.

"Watch your mouth."

Diana shot him a look, half-amused. "Be polite. He's my ATM."

Marco burst out laughing. He tapped my face with the keycard in his hand. "Come on, ATM. Spit out some cash. I'm heading out to buy drinks."

The card jabbed against my face again and again. Cold. Sharp.

Diana stood there watching, a faint, unreadable smile on her lips.

Finally, I snapped.

I slapped his hand away and drove a fist into his face.

"And you think you can get away with screwing my wife? I'll beat you to death right here!"

Marco flopped back onto the sofa.

Before I could swing again, Diana's voice cut in.

"Enough.

"Do you still want your mother treated or not?

"Tomorrow is the last surgery."

She caught my fist in her palm and stood between him and me.

Her fingers were small. I could have broken her wrist with one hand.

I didn't move. A chill spread through my chest.

"Diana, am I just a wallet to you?"

"What else would you be?"

I started laughing.

Six years.

You grow attached even to a dog after six years. I'm a living person.

Whatever Diana wanted, I gave her. I would have torn my heart out for her.

Not just because she was treating my mother–but because I had thought of her as my wife.

What had she treated me as?

A wallet? A fool? A cuckold?

She had taken my supplier payment and bought Marco a car.

The laughter came out uncontrollably, almost choking me.

It startled both of them.

Marco shrank into the corner of the couch, staring at me in fear. "Diana, get him out of here. He's like a lunatic."

Diana's face darkened. She pointed at the door.

"Did you hear him? Get out."

In that instant, a hundred thoughts ran through my mind.

The look on the supplier's face when my payment failed. My mother lying in bed, on a ventilator, trying to give up on life.

In the end, I gave in.

I grabbed a few clothes, stuffed them into a bag, and left my own house.

One more day. I just had to endure one more day.

After my mother's surgery, I would divorce Diana.

I sat in the back of a taxi on the way to the hospital, trying to calm myself.

When I arrived, my mother had just finished her checkup and was asleep.

I rubbed my face and sat by her bed.

Drip. Drip.

The IV fluid fell slowly, making faint sounds.

Maybe I had been too emotional today. Once I calmed down, exhaustion hit me.

Just as my head began to nod, my mother woke up.

"What's wrong? Did you and Diana have a fight?"

She smiled at me. The hand with the IV lifted slightly and rested on my head.

That warmth felt familiar.

Like when I was a child–when classmates mocked me for being an orphan, and I fought back, coming home covered in bruises.

She had not scolded me. She had just stroked my head and asked, "Does it hurt?"

At that moment, I could not hold it in anymore. I started crying like I used to.

"Mom… Diana… she's gone too far."

In the end, I did not say what she had done.

I was afraid it would hurt my mother. More than that, I was afraid she would try to give up her treatment to ease my burden.

My mother gently patted my back, again and again, without saying a word.

After a long while, she said, "If it's too hard… let it go."

"I don't want to be a burden to you."

See… Even without me saying anything, she understood everything.

I held her hand and slowly calmed down.

"We've come this far. How can I give up?"

"Mom, tomorrow is the final surgery. After that, you'll recover."

"In this world, I only have you."

Her fingers trembled slightly, then she let out a long sigh.

I lowered my head.

I knew how painful these years of treatment had been for her.

I knew I was being selfish.

However, the thought of losing her–even imagining it–was enough to drive me mad.

I glanced at the time. It was already late at night.

Diana and that man… should be done by now.

I stood up and said goodbye to my mother.

When I reached home, I pushed the key into the lock.

Before I could turn it, the door opened…

Marco was at the door. He was on his way out.

He had not left.

I held my breath. I didn't speak.

A voice came from inside the apartment behind him.

"Who's at the door? Hurry up and go buy condoms. I can't hold it anymore!"

The room came into view.

Four or five men I had never seen were sitting around on the couch. Diana was in the middle of them. One shoulder bare. Her clothes rising and falling in a way that shouldn't have been happening.

Marco gave me a sideways look and grinned.

"Look who came back. The ATM.

"Diana said it wasn't exciting enough, so I brought a few friends over. You don't mind, do you?"

Every nerve in me caught fire.

The marital home was something we bought after the wedding. She said we needed a place in a good school district for the future. I had emptied my savings to get it.

She was always busy, so I handled the renovation myself. Every piece of furniture, every appliance, I picked them all out.

Even the couch those men were sitting on, I went to over ten furniture stores before choosing it.

And now… my home was filled with the presence of strangers.

"Come in."

Diana, still breathing unevenly, spoke from the couch.

I walked in. Each step felt heavy.

"Does it bother you?"

She leaned against a man's shoulder, eyes half-closed.

I thought about the surgery tomorrow. I swallowed everything down.

"No."

Diana let out a small laugh. "The card you gave me is maxed out. Get me more money. I want to give them some small gifts."

I lowered my head. "Too many shipments lately. Cash flow's tight. The two million in that account was the last of it."

Her expression darkened. "Then use your credit cards."

I hesitated.

Marco walked up behind me and kicked the back of my knee.

Thud.

I dropped to the floor, my forehead slamming into the coffee table.

He pulled out his phone and started recording.

"You dare ignore Diana? A little ATM thinks he can rebel?"

I grabbed onto my pants, keeping my head down, not wanting my face in the video.

Diana noticed.

"Lift his face. It didn't catch it."

Marco grabbed my chin and yanked it up.

He leaned in close. The phone screen showed both our faces.

"Say it. You're an ATM."

I felt nothing. My voice came out stiff.

"I'm an ATM."

"Whatever your master wants, you give her."

"Whatever my master wants, I give her."

Marco licked his lips.

Then he suddenly stepped in front of me, pointing the rear camera straight at my face.

"Take out your credit cards."

My hands trembled as I opened my wallet and pulled them out.

He snatched them and handed them to Diana.

"Check the limit, Diana."

Diana took out a card machine and tapped a few numbers.

"Only one million," she said, clearly displeased.

Marco smacked me across the face.

"Useless. Who are you trying to fool with this amount?"

My whole body trembled. I didn't dare speak.

Marco looked around the apartment.

"Nice place. Diana, why don't we have him sell it and split the money among the guys?"

Diana hesitated for a moment… then nodded.

"You. Sign the papers. Transfer the house to them."