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After five years of marriage, we split everything down the middle. I worked my ass off for just one thousand dollars a month, barely scraping by. But at a class reunion, he made a joke out of me, saying I was a loser who didn't deserve a guy like him, a million-dollar-a-year hotshot. To buy his dream girl a designer bag, he even stole the money I'd saved for my mom's surgery. My heart was dead. I asked for a divorce. He agreed without a second thought and handed me 100 dollars as a "breakup bonus." The next day, Attorney Miller showed up at my door. He told me I was the only heir to the family fortune, and I had to sign for a thirty-five billion-dollar inheritance. The only catch? I had to be single.