Summer held up three fingers, looking dead serious.

"You have $3 million?"

She shook her head.

"$300,000?"

"I have $3,000."

"Honey, I know it's not much, but I'm giving you everything I have."

Nice try—using $3,000 to bait me into spending millions more. She really thinks I'm an idiot.

When I didn't respond, Summer started pushing me to tap my family for cash.

"Honey, think of something. Ask your parents, your siblings. A few extra million shouldn't be hard for you."

I smiled faintly and pointed at the standalone villa. "Why cram into a condo with all those people? If we're buying, we're buying that."

She stared at me, stunned. Then her expression soured—she thought I was mocking her. "If you don't want to chip in for a bigger condo, just say so. You don't have to be sarcastic."

I gripped her shoulders, looking sincere. "Honey, I'm not joking. I'm buying the villa. Look—I've already got the money."

I showed her my bank balance. Her eyes went wide, and she actually screamed.

But suspicion crept back almost instantly. "You didn't take out a loan, did you? Because I'm not paying that off with you."

"Relax. Not a single cent borrowed. My family scraped it together."

She threw herself at me, wrapping her arms around my neck and kissing me hard.

"Honey, you're amazing!"

Just like that, I paid $30 million in full for the villa.

On the way home, we passed an imported car dealership. Summer dragged me inside.

"Honey, your Audi's so old. How about a Porsche? Since your family's so generous, why not ask for a little more?"

This woman was relentless. Bleeding me for a house wasn't enough—now she wanted a car.

Fine by me. The more eagerly she swallows, the harder she'll choke when it comes back up.

I dropped another $6 million on a Porsche.

The moment the keys hit my palm, her lips curled into a grin. So did mine.

After the house and car, she pushed for designer bags, watches, jewelry.

I refused everything.

First, that stuff would be a hassle to reclaim later. Second, I didn't want to overload the trap. The mine I'd buried was heavy enough already—I was worried she wouldn't survive the blast.

I didn't want our divorce dragging on because of loose ends.

The moment I stopped spending, her attitude plummeted.

At night, she was suddenly never in the mood. Period cramps. Infection. Always something.