My hand froze halfway to my mouth, chicken grease sticking to my fingers.

“Hand me some money,” I muttered.

Damian scoffed. “You wish. You don’t even have money to buy food, yet you’re making mou—”

I shoved the chicken into his mouth before he could finish talking. His lips parted in shock, his sharp blue eyes narrowing on me as if I’d committed some crime against humanity.

“There,” I said sweetly. “Now I didn’t eat it alone. You’re paying for both of us, husband.”

The word came out sharp, more of an insult than a title.

I waited for him to spit it out dramatically, but instead, Damian chewed—slow, deliberate....