Chapter 1
The day after my divorce was finalized, I was stretched out on a beach in Balaris when my phone buzzed.
A friend had sent me a live stream link, and I clicked it to see my ex-husband, Richard Chandler, marrying his mistress, Vivian Baker.
They were in a glitzy hotel ballroom, throwing a massive reception.
My friend's messages showed how angry she was about the whole situation. But I just typed back four words: [Let him embarrass himself.]
And sure enough, he did. After a few rounds of drinks, the hotel manager appeared with the bill, which came to a cool $3 million.
Richard made a show of pulling out his credit card.
But his act fell apart the moment the server's voice rang out, clear across the ballroom. "I'm sorry, sir, but your card has been declined."
*****
The salty sea breeze brushed against my face, carrying that gentle, lazy warmth unique to the tropics.
I took off my sunglasses and scrolled through the livestream on my phone. The absurd contrast between the noisy wedding on screen and the calm reality around me was almost surreal.
The party hall was all glitz and glamour. Crystal chandeliers cast a dazzling light, each beam a testament to the host's profound satisfaction with himself.
My ex-husband, Richard, was making the rounds, glass in hand, his face glowing from the drinks as he mingled with the guests.
Clinging to his arm in her pristine white gown, Vivian wore a sugary, triumphant smile, the kind plastered on the face of someone utterly convinced they had won.
They were the picture-perfect couple, a match made in heaven.
If I didn't know the truth, I might have bought their affectionate act too.
My friend, Cheryl Sullivan, blasted my phone with a flood of angry emojis.
Then she texted: [Wallis, look at those two snakes. They're using your money for their wedding and making sure the whole city knows just to rub it in your face.]
I ignored the outburst and coolly replied: [Let him embarrass himself.]
She went quiet for a second, and then sent a "You're a legend" sticker.
I smiled, set my phone back up, and took a slow sip of my cold coconut juice.
The real show was just getting started.
The livestream camera swept over the scene, catching every flashy detail of the grand wedding.
A hundred tables of food, top-shelf liquor, and flowers flown in from overseas were all a loud and clear statement from Richard about just how much money he had to burn.
This whole wedding was his proof that after leaving his "old, faithful wife" behind, he was not only doing better but also winning.
For a social climber like him, keeping up appearances mattered more than anything in the world.
The party was in full swing, with guests well into their drinks and meals, when the hotel manager approached Richard with a bill folder in hand.
As if on cue, the music in the hall softened just enough. Eyes from nearby tables subtly drifted toward them.
Richard, tipsy and full of himself, waved his hand like he was the king of the night, ready to pick up the tab for everyone.
He took the bill without even glancing at the total and smoothly fished out a black card from his suit pocket.
I knew that card all too well. It was the secondary card linked to our joint account. Every single cent on it came from the assets I brought into our marriage and the profits our company had earned over the years.
He had no idea that as of yesterday, that card was no longer his to use.
The server took the card and ran it through the card reader.
As time passed, an awkward silence hung in the air.
The server's polite smile stiffened. She looked up at Richard and said, loud enough for nearby tables to hear, "I'm sorry, sir, but your card has been declined."
Her words were like a rock dropped into still water, sending ripples of shock through the crowd.
Richard's smile froze. "Impossible," he blurted out.
He snatched the card back, staring at it in disbelief.
"Try it again. Maybe your machine's broken," he said, his voice cracking with barely hidden panic.
The server did as he asked, then shook her head apologetically. "I'm sorry, sir. It's really not working."
The guests around him started whispering, their voices blending into a buzzing background that filled Richard's ears.
His face flushed red, and then paled before turning ashen. "That's... that's impossible," he stammered.
Frantically, he pulled another card from his wallet. "Try this one," he demanded.
"I'm sorry, this card has also been declined," the server replied.
He shoved forward a third. "This one!"
"Also declined."
The air grew thick and still, draping the party hall in heavy, awkward silence.
Vivian's smile was gone, replaced by a fragile, barely-contained panic.
Behind her, her parents looked utterly humiliated, as if they'd been publicly shamed.
Sweat beaded on Richard's forehead. Finally realizing what must have happened, he turned sharply, his eyes burning with rage, as though he could see right through the screen and straight at me.