The moment we signed the divorce papers, my ex-husband’s family was already eagerly packing to move into my ten-million-dollar Bel-Air mansion. Imagine their surprise when, upon arriving at the gates, they were stopped dead in their tracks.
David had arrogantly thrown the divorce decree in my face, absolutely certain he was going to toss his wife out on the street and move his entire family into the luxurious estate to live the California dream.
But neither he nor his mother had the slightest idea that behind those gleaming wrought-iron gates, it was not silk, velvet, and champagne waiting for them. It was a humiliating trap I had personally set.
I walked out of the downtown Los Angeles courthouse just as the scorching midday sun was melting the asphalt. Heat shimmered above the pavement, making the traffic on the far side of the street look like a mirage. Yet strangely enough, my soul felt cool and refreshed.
In my hand, I held the judge’s final order. The ink was barely dry.
That fragile piece of paper carried the weight of five years. Five years of my life as a wife. Five years as a daughter-in-law. Five years of humiliation, silence, and carefully swallowed tears.
I took a deep breath. Somehow, even the smell of city smog seemed pleasant that day. It smelled like freedom.
I adjusted my oversized designer sunglasses, hiding the dark circles from the sleepless nights I had spent preparing my legal strategy. Finally, I was free.
Heavy footsteps behind me made me pause. Without turning around, I knew it was David. His suffocating cologne mixed with the smell of stale cigarettes had followed me for years.
David pulled up beside me and casually lit a cigarette. He took a deep drag, then blew the smoke directly toward my face. His arrogance had not diminished even a little. He looked me up and down with a gaze that held no affection at all. Only contempt. Only triumph.
He smirked, his voice dripping with condescension. “Well, Vicki, look at you glowing with that divorce decree. Let’s see how long your joy lasts.”
I said nothing.
His smile widened. “Without me, without the status of a CEO’s wife, do you really think you can hold on to that ten-million-dollar mansion in Bel-Air?”
I only gave him a crooked smile. He still thought of me as a pretty but useless trophy wife, someone who existed solely because of his success. He had no idea that I was the one who had quietly carried the fortune he so proudly bragged about.
Seeing my silence, David grew bolder. He stepped closer and lowered his voice as if he were doing me a favor.
“Let tell you something, Vicki. You’re yesterday’s news now. Without my last name and my status, you’re nothing. Sooner or later, you’ll come crawling back, begging me to take you in. Maybe then, for old times’ sake, I’ll toss you a few bucks to survive.”
He flicked ash onto the sidewalk. “As for the house, you can keep that soulless empty box for now. It’s all in my hands anyway.”
I looked him dead in the eye. My gaze was surprisingly calm. In the past, whenever he raised his voice, I lowered my head to keep the peace. But that submissive woman was dead.
I replied evenly, enunciating every word. “David, thank you for your concern. But you really should worry about yourself. From this minute on, our paths diverge. Whether I can keep the house, how I live, or what happens to me after today is no longer your concern.”
With that, I turned on my heel and walked toward my waiting Uber Black. I did not want to waste another second of my life on him.
Sitting in the back of the SUV, I glanced in the rearview mirror and saw David still standing there, furiously kicking the tire of his car. He truly believed he was the victor. He believed I was the pathetic loser thrown out into the world.
He had no idea a storm was already moving toward his family.
As the car pulled away from the courthouse and the painful chapter behind it, I pulled out my phone and sent a quick text to my lawyer, Arthur Sterling.
“The divorce is official. We can initiate Plan B.”