Chapter 3: Money and Dignity

I texted my mom to comfort her and assured her that I would handle it. Then I stepped outside to call my uncle.

"Where's the rest of the money?"

"Sarah, you can't be ungrateful," Robert's tone dripped with false concern. "I helped arrange this marriage into the Thornton family. A finder's fee is perfectly reasonable."

"Four million dollars is not a finder's fee!" I fought to keep my voice down, conscious of the nurses' station nearby. "You know Le Mitchell's situation. We need that money for immediate operations." My uncle's smug voice made my blood boil.

"Business is business, my dear niece. Consider it payment for years of mentorship."

Mentorship? My free hand clenched into a fist. "The only thing you mentored was the systematic destruction of everything my father built. You replaced our signature ingredients with cheaper alternatives, hired inexperienced staff—"

"To cut costs! The restaurant was bleeding money—"

"Because you mismanaged it!" The words echoed off the walls, drawing concerned looks from passing hospital staff. I lowered my voice. "Return the money, Uncle Robert. All of it."

His laugh was cold. "Or what? You'll tell your comatose husband? Face reality, Sarah. You're not in a position to make demands."

The call ended with a click, leaving me alone with my fury and desperation. Through the window of Michael's room, I could see my brother's still form, unchanged since the accident. The monitors beeped steadily, marking time in a rhythm that seemed to mock my growing anxiety.

My phone buzzed again – Pierre Raymond, Le Mitchell's operations director.

"Sarah?" Pierre's voice was tense. "About the promised funds..."

I pressed my forehead against the cool window glass. "Pierre, I can wire three million today. It should cover the immediate expenses."

"Three million?" His concern was palpable. "But the suppliers—"

"Will have to wait." I watched a nurse check Michael's vitals. "I'm working on getting the rest. Just... hold them off a little longer."

"I understand, but Sarah..." He hesitated. "The staff is getting nervous. There are rumors about the restaurant's future..."

"Tell them I give my word – everyone will be paid in full." Somehow, I added silently.

---

Moon Lake Estate was unusually quiet when I arrived that afternoon. The usual bustle of household staff was conspicuously absent, with everyone gathered in the courtyard. Mrs. Wilson stood at attention, directing maids and security personnel with military precision.

"Dr. Parker's orders," she explained when I approached. "Complete silence for his examination of Mr. Thornton."

I nodded, heading toward the main entrance. The grand foyer echoed with my footsteps as I made my way upstairs, my mind racing with plans to convince James to release the full amount. He's clearly conscious and mobile – surely he must see reason.

A grunt of exertion drew my attention as I passed the private gym. The door was slightly ajar, and through the gap, I could see James doing pull-ups, his muscled back rippling with each movement. Dr. Parker stood nearby, making notes on a tablet.

"How is your wife?"

James's laugh was harsh. "She's interested in money. That's all I need to ensure her silence."

The words hit like a physical blow. Is that what he thinks of me? I must have made some sound, because both men turned toward the door. For a moment, our eyes met through the gap – his dark and challenging.

Without thinking, I pushed the door open and strode in. "We need to talk."

Dr. Parker quickly gathered his things. "I'll give you some privacy."

As soon as the door closed behind him, I faced James. "I need to borrow eight million dollars."

He raised an eyebrow, reaching for a water bottle. "Why would I do that?"

"Because I know your secret." The words came out harder than I intended. "And because I'm your wife."

"A wife in name only." He took a long drink, his eyes never leaving mine. "Let's be clear – this is a business arrangement. Nothing more."

"Exactly. And in business, everything has a price." I stepped closer. "Name yours."

His smile was cold. "You already sold yourself for eight million. Now you want to borrow the same amount? That's poor negotiation, Sarah."

He moved past me toward the door. "This discussion is over."

---

Pierre's call caught me just as I was leaving the estate – an investor wanted to meet about Le Mitchell tonight at the Metropolitan Club. With our desperate need for funds, I didn't hesitate to accept. When I was about to head out, James asked, "Where are you going?" I shot him a glare and walked out without a word.

The Metropolitan Club's private dining room was everything the guidebooks promised – old world elegance with a distinctly Manhattan edge. When I pushed the door, I didn't expect to see William.

"William?" I couldn't keep the shock from my voice. "What are you doing here? I was told I'd be meeting with an investor about Le Mitchell."

"And here I am. Come over, honey." His smile was predatory.

"These numbers are concerning," he said, pushing the folder aside. "But nothing we can't fix with proper investment." He gestured to a waiting server. "Champagne? 1982 was an excellent year."

I started to decline, but he was already pouring. "About the investment terms—"

"Let's not talk business just yet, honey. " His smile didn't reach his eyes. "Tell me, how are you finding married life? James can be... difficult, even when conscious."

The champagne tasted off – too sweet, with an underlying bite that set off warning bells in my mind. I discreetly set the glass aside. "I'd prefer to focus on the proposal."

"Of course." William's chair scraped closer. "I'm prepared to invest significantly in Le Mitchell. Very significantly." His hand brushed my knee under the table. "Though we'll need to discuss... private terms."

I jerked away, nearly knocking over my glass. "Please don't touch me."

"Come now, Sarah." His voice dropped lower as he refilled my glass. "Surely you understand how these deals work. Your marriage to James was a business arrangement – why should this be any different?"

My head had started to spin slightly. The room seemed too warm, the lights too bright. The champagne – what was in it?

"I think we're done here." I tried to stand, but my legs felt unsteady.

William's hand clamped around my wrist. "We're just getting started. No one needs to know about our little arrangement.”

"Let go of me." The words came out slurred. I tried to focus on his face, but my vision kept blurring.

"Mrs. Thornton?" A deep voice cut through my growing disorientation.