I was working at my desk. I closed my laptop slowly. “No, Daniel. For four years, I chose to help her. There’s a massive difference.”
“Her mortgage payment is past due!”
“Then you and your family can pay it.”
Daniel ran both hands through his hair in a panic. “You know damn well my salary can’t cover that!”
“Interesting,” I noted. “Because when your mother humiliated me two nights ago, your family certainly seemed to have plenty of money for a four-figure dinner.”
“It was just a dinner!”
“And my empty plate was ‘just a plate,’ right?”
Daniel went completely quiet.
I pulled a thick folder out of my desk drawer—a file I had prepared that morning with my attorney and college friend, Paula. I slid it across the glass table.
“I need you to pack your clothes and leave.”
Daniel opened the folder. His face drained of color. “Divorce?”
“Yes.”
“Over a dinner?”
“Over four years of you mistaking being a husband for freeloading off me while letting your family treat me like a human ATM.”
Daniel tried to argue, but building security escorted him off the premises.
He retreated to his mother’s house, which is where the real chaos erupted. Theresa was still furious at me when she announced to the family, “We don’t need Mariana anyway. Lauren is always telling us how well her investments are doing.”
Everyone turned toward the favorite daughter-in-law. Lauren instantly went pale.
“Uh… my funds are tied up in my portfolio this month,” Lauren stammered.