7
Tiffany delivers her ultimatum: a positive
pregnancy test. Mark’s, she says.
I take it, look her in the eye. “Divorce is fine.
But how do we know it’s Mark’s? Get me an
official paternity test, and I’ll sign the
papers.
“I thought you didn’t want a divorce?” Dumb
question.
“Get me that test, honey. Or you and your
one kid are going up against me and my two. We outweigh you. Oh, and your mother–in- law’s not feeling well. You should go check
on her. I’m busy.”
く
Thunder rumbles outside. My mother–in–law
has a cold. I’m not playing nurse.
I’ve been systematically draining Mark’s
accounts. Those bags and watches add up.
I’ve got over $2 million stashed away. Just
waiting for the final move.
Tiffany delivers the paternity test. It’s Mark’s.
I file for divorce, citing infidelity. I demand
half of his company.
He looks furious. I meet his gaze, unflinching.
Phase Five.
He can’t deny it. I’ve got him dead to rights.
No company shares? Then he pays a lump
<
He can’t. Tiffany and I have cleaned him out.
I also sue Tiffany for everything Mark gave
her: the apartment, the gifts, the cash. Over
$800,000. She gave it all to her dad. She
can’t pay. She looks to Mark, but he’s
drowning himself.
Phase Six.
Mark stares at me like I’m a stranger. “What
happened to you?”
What’s that supposed to mean? I should just
take it?
I smile brightly. “You happened. Ten years of
devotion, and I’m ‘incompetent‘? You didn’t
respect our marriage. You flaunted your affair
with Tiffany. Luckily, I’m not stupid. I cut you
く
out the second I found out.”
His eyes are red. “I’ll countersue. You’ll give
back every penny.
JJ
I smirk. “Mark, I have the kids. You can’t
touch me.
Tiffany won’t pay, won’t sell the apartment. She wants Mark to fix it.
I send evidence of his two–year affair,
including Tiffany’s harassment, to his family, friends, and business partners. After two
years of playing the victim, I have everyone’s sympathy. No one will help him.
On the day of the court–ordered asset seizure, Mark shows up at my door, begging me to drop the suit.
I flip him over my shoulder with a perfect Tae
Kwon Do throw, all my strength, all my rage.
A tidal wave crashes over me as I stand over
him.
Garbage,” I whisper.
Tiffany cracks. She sues Mark for fraud,
claims he raped her the first time.
The cops ask why she didn’t report it. She
says he paid her $5,000 to keep quiet.
They ask, “Why now? You’ve been together
this whole time.”
“Because he’s broke.”
The cop laughs. They’ve probably never heard
<
anything so ridiculous.
The rape case is thrown out. Lack of evidence. But the divorce goes through. I get 51% of his company.
I hire a CEO. Mark still runs the day–to–day, but he has no real power, no access to the money.
He begs for forgiveness. Too little, too late.
I look at him with disgust. “I’ve been sick to my stomach every single day since you started that affair.”
He can work for me now. I’m living in a
penthouse with my parents, full custody of my
kids.
く
He knows the business. He’ll be a good
employee.
Life after divorce is blissful. School runs,
taking care of my parents. Weekends are for art classes, piano lessons, horseback riding, rollerblading, ballet.
Marriage was constant stress. Making sure the kids were perfect, the in–laws were happy. Harder than any exam.
Now, I have time. I stroll through the park, watch couples flirt, enjoy life.
One sunny afternoon, picking the kids up
from riding lessons, I see the new instructor. Tall, handsome, bright smile, kind eyes. He radiates sunshine.
Instant attraction. I walk over, make a bold
move. “Can I be your friend? I have two kids,
and I’m a lot older than you.
33
He smiles, a gentle curve of his lips.
Noncommittal.
With money and freedom, I can make my own rules. No more expectations, no more
overestimating relationships.
When you lower your expectations, every
encounter is a gift.
Like this one.
As I turn to go, he says, “I’ll think about it.”
I smile. It doesn’t matter.
<
With money and freedom, I can make my own.
rules. No more expectations, no more
overestimating relationships.
When you lower your expectations, every
encounter is a gift.
Like this one.
As I turn to go, he says, “I’ll think about it.”
I smile. It doesn’t matter.
What matters is the encounter, the gift, the knowledge that even after all the ugliness, I can still believe in something beautiful.
