Chapter 1

My husband, Eric Lane, earned fifty thousand dollars a month. I, Claire Sutton, ran a small bakery and earned two thousand dollars a month.

Last night, he slammed divorce papers on the table as I kneaded dough for the next day.

"Claire, sign it." Eric leaned against the doorframe, dressed in a suit, his cufflinks glinting. He wouldn't even sit.

I wiped the flour off my hands and picked up the agreement.

The house and the car went to him. We split the savings equally. He had over one million dollars in his account, and I had eleven thousand.

"I'll take nothing. Give me the bakery equipment," I said.

He paused, clearly surprised by how easily I agreed. "Aren't you going to fight for anything?"

"What's there to fight for?"

I turned to the last page, picked up the pen he'd left nearby, and signed my name.

"Claire, I didn't mean to hurt you. But you know the gap between us has gotten too big."

*****

I didn't look up.

Eric said, "I make nearly seven hundred thousand dollars a year, and you only bring in two thousand dollars a month.

"When my colleagues bring their spouses to dinners, you always show up in your apron.

"Last time, William's wife asked what you did, and you said you ran a bakery..."

"What's wrong with running a bakery?"

He took a deep breath, but swallowed it back. "Forget it. There's no point in talking about this. Let's go to the family court tomorrow morning, okay?"

"Okay," I said, continuing to knead the dough.

He stood there watching me for a moment, then turned and walked away.

*****

The next morning at nine, we met outside the family court.

He showed up in his black Porsche Cayenne, while I rolled up on a scooter.

As we filled out the paperwork, the staff member asked, "Are you both here of your own free will?"

"Yes," we both replied at the same time.

Swapping our marriage certificate for a divorce certificate took less than forty minutes.

As we stepped out of the family court, the sun was shining brightly.

Eric pulled out his phone right in front of me, opened WhatsApp, deleted me as a friend, then went to his contacts and blocked my number. He did it all in one swift, clean motion.

After he finished, he slipped his phone back into his pocket and gave me a look. "From now on, we go our separate ways. Don't contact me again."

I nodded.

He got into his car. The Porsche's engine rumbled to life, and the car smoothly pulled out of the parking spot and merged into the traffic.

I stood there for a moment, then turned and walked off in the other direction.

I didn't go back to the house that wasn't mine anymore. Instead, I made my way to the bakery.

The bakery, called ClaireCrust Bakery, was nestled in a quiet alley in the old district. It was small, barely 161 square feet.

As I pushed the door, the toast I'd set to bake overnight was coming out of the oven. The whole shop was filled with the scent of fresh bread.

I put on my apron and started kneading the dough.

My phone rang. It was Julia James. "Did you sign it?"

"Yeah, I signed it," I replied.

"What were Eric's terms?"

"He gets the house and the car, and we split the savings."

There was a five-second pause on the other end. Julia said, "Claire, has the flour gone to your head? What about the things you own..."

"It's got nothing to do with him. Those were never part of what we shared as a couple."

"Does he know about it?"

"Nope," I said, tucking the phone between my ear and shoulder so I could keep kneading the dough. "And he doesn't ever need to find out."

"Alright then. So, when are you going to..."

"Tomorrow."

"So soon?"

"I've been putting this off for three years. It's hardly quick."

After hanging up, I pulled a letter out of my apron pocket and set it on the counter, giving it a lingering look.

I'd written it last night, meant to leave it for Eric.

After thinking it over, I slipped it into that drawer by the front door, the one he never opened.

He might find it in three months, or maybe never. I didn't care anymore.

The letter was short: [Eric, I'm giving you the freedom you wanted.

[There are a few things you should know: I paid off the two hundred and seventy thousand dollars you owed after your business failed in 2019.

[I covered the one hundred and thirty thousand dollars for your mom's hospital stay in 2021.

[That "company bonus" you get every year? I'm the one who sent the money to your department head so he could hand it to you as a bonus.

[Also, I'm the founder of ClaireCrust Bakery, with over twelve hundred franchise stores nationwide. You can check last year's brand valuation report online. Take care. Claire.]

He'd probably come across it one afternoon while sorting through old things.

Whatever expression he'd have when he found it, I couldn't care less. The only thing on my mind was whether the dough in front of me had risen enough.

When Eric pulled into the underground parking lot of the restaurant where he and Vivian Grant had agreed to meet, he was in high spirits. Actually, he finally felt free.

After three years, he was finally done with that woman who didn't belong in his world.

His phone buzzed. It was a message from Vivian: [Are you here yet? I'm by the window on the second floor.]

He texted back: [On my way.] Then, he stepped out of the car.

Vivian was the investment director at his company, an overseas-educated professional with a master's degree. She made about two hundred and seventy thousand dollars a year.

She was stunning and always dressed impeccably. They'd been seeing each other for two months.

It was Vivian who gave him half the courage he needed to ask for a divorce.

"It's done?" Vivian asked, setting down her wine glass and raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, it's done," Eric replied.

"Didn't she make a scene?"

"Nope," Eric said as he sat down, with a hint of surprise in his voice. "It went way smoother than I expected. She didn't ask for anything."

Vivian smiled. "As expected. What could she possibly fight for? She runs a bakery, barely making a few thousand a month. Eric, you should have ended things with her ages ago."

"Yeah," he said, picking up the menu and flipping through a couple of pages, then suddenly pausing.

"What's up?" Vivian asked.

"It's nothing. When she left, she was so calm. She didn't shed a single tear."

"Isn't that what you wanted? Makes things easier, no strings attached."

"Yeah."