After a bitter marriage marked by Mike’s obsession with material wealth, Nicole shockingly agrees to give him everything in their divorce.
But as Mike revels in his “victory,” Nicole’s laughter reveals a secret plan in motion. What Mike doesn’t know is that she’s about to make her final move.
I stepped out of the lawyer’s office with a blank expression, my shoulders slumped, looking every bit the defeated ex-wife.
The rain was coming down hard, and the gray sky matched my mood — or at least the mood I wanted people to think I was in.
Inside, I was buzzing. My hands clenched the cold steel of the door handle as I headed toward the elevator. No one was around.
Good.
The elevator door closed behind me with a soft ding, and as soon as I was alone, I let out a little giggle. It wasn’t something I planned; it bubbled up from deep inside like champagne finally uncorked.
The more I thought about what I’d just done the more it built up until I was cackling in the elevator like a lunatic.
If anyone saw me right then, they’d think I had finally snapped, gone over the edge from all the stress, but oh no, this was just the beginning. Everything was falling perfectly into place.
The house, the car, the savings — Mike could have them all.
It was exactly what I wanted. He thought he’d won, and that was the best part. He didn’t have a clue what was coming.
The elevator stopped with a jolt, and I pulled myself together.
I glanced at my reflection in the elevator’s mirrored wall: messy hair, tired eyes, and a faint smile still lingering on my lips. I didn’t even care. This was going to be fun.
A few weeks earlier…
Mike and I hadn’t been happy for years, but it wasn’t just the regular kind of falling out of love.
Mike was obsessed with his image. He was all about the flashy cars, having the biggest house on the block, and wearing only designer clothes.
All of it was a performance, and I had played my part for too long. The cracks had started to show, and when the arguments became more frequent, I knew it wasn’t long before the inevitable happened.
The thing is, I wasn’t scared of the divorce.
I knew Mike, and I knew exactly how this would play out.
He didn’t care about saving the marriage. No, what he wanted was to win — win the house, win the money, win the divorce.
All I wanted was to be free of this pretentious lifestyle. But that didn’t mean I was going to let him screw me over, either.
So, I’d let Mike have what he wanted, but with a catch as sharp as a fishhook.
It happened on a Tuesday. Mike came home late, again. I was in the kitchen, pretending to scroll through my phone, not bothering to look up when he stormed in.
“We need to talk.”
I sighed, barely masking the boredom in my voice.
“What now?”
He slammed his keys on the counter, and I could practically feel the frustration radiating off him. He always got like this when things didn’t go his way at work, and of course, I was the easiest target.
“I’m done,” he said, his voice low and tight. “I want a divorce.”
I blinked up at him.
Finally. I nodded slowly, like it was sinking in, but really, I had been prepared for this moment for weeks.
The story doesn’t end here — it continues on the next page.
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