I Was His Wife for 8 Years, He Paid Me Like a Maid Chapter 05
“Vivian has only ever given me five thousand a month.”
Silence on the other end.
Two full seconds.
Then Damon’s voice cut through, cold. “Vivian. Bring me the accounts.”
She was right beside him. That crashing sound earlier had been her knocking over a coffee cup.
But by the time she spoke, her voice was steady again.
“Mr. Ashford, the five thousand Miss Sterling mentioned is the personal allowance I transfer to her card.”
“The rest–the clothing, jewelry, vehicles, household expenses–all went through the corporate accounts.”
“She doesn’t review the statements. She may have misunderstood.”
Within a minute, several expense reports landed on Damon’s phone.
Hundreds of thousands in gowns, watches, travel expenses.
All under Sloane’s name.
Damon’s voice softened slightly.
“Sloane, Vivian has complete records here.”
“I’ve never seen any of those things.”
“I’ll look into it.”
He paused. “But you shouldn’t have been looking for your next arrangement at Grandma’s birthday banquet.”
“Apologize to her and my mother first. We’ll discuss the rest at home.”
Sloane gripped the diagnosis paper.
Her fingers slowly uncurled.
He still didn’t believe her.
To him, whether the money had been stolen was just a minor detail to sort out later, at home.
Vivian took the phone.
“Miss Sterling, send me the hospital information. I’ll arrange it.”
I waited forty minutes. The deposit never arrived. I called again.
Vivian sounded apologetic.
“The hospital’s out–of–network, and the diagnosis hasn’t been properly documented.”
“Three hundred thousand isn’t a small amount. We need to verify.”
“The doctors are only waiting until ten.”
“Tsk. Hospitals always scare family members. Don’t panic yet.”
I checked the time. 9:47 p.m.
Naomi finally grabbed the phone from her hand.
“Stop begging. Money doesn’t only come from the Ashfords.”
She called her friend Evan Hayes.
Evan had been widowed for three years.
He was looking for a long–term family assistant for his seven–year–old daughter.
Six hundred thousand a year. Half–year advance available. But there would be an interview and a formal
contract first.
When the video call connected, he didn’t ask about Sloane’s relationship with the Ashfords.
He only asked if she could care for a child and manage an elderly person’s medication.
Naomi forwarded my relationship value assessment sheet directly.
Evan read it. Then he said, “Have my attorney bring the contract to the hospital.”
“Salary is salary. Household expenses are separate.”
Before ten, three hundred thousand hit the hospital account.
Memo line: [six–month salary advance.]
My father went into surgery.
I stared at the payment confirmation.
My nose stung.
A man I’d known for less than an hour recognized eight years of labor as skill.
A man I’d known for eight years still suspected I was putting on a show for money.
Half an hour later, Damon arrived at the hospital.
He’d brought specialists.
He’d had finance prepare the money. But the billing window told him the deposit had already been paid.
“Who paid?”
The nurse checked the record.
“An Evan Hayes.”
Vivian murmured beside him, “Mr. Ashford, it seems she already had an exit strategy.”
Damon looked up.
He saw the contract in my hand.
First page, six words. Family Assistant. Sloane Sterling.
