Chapter 3

I labeled each box: "Clothes (Spring/Summer)," "Clothes (Fall/Winter)," "Shoes & Bags," "Skincare & Makeup," "Miscellaneous," and "Evidence."

They were all neatly stacked by the entrance.

Ben snapped a photo. "Can I post this on Instagram?"

I said, "No."

"Alright." He put his phone away and checked the time. "When are you heading to the lawyer's office?"

"10 AM."

"I'll drive you."

"No need."

"I wanna go," he said, eyes lighting up. "I wanna see what a divorce agreement actually looks like."

"You're nuts."

"I'm worried about you! And maybe a little curious."

At 9:50, I did one last check before heading out.

Every single thing that belonged to Emily was gone.

The place was spotless.

It was like she'd never even been here.

Freddy's law firm was on the seventeenth floor of a downtown office tower.

I got there at 10:02.

Freddy was already in his office, two cups of black coffee sitting on the table.

"Have a seat," he said, sliding one cup my way.

I sat down and placed the marriage certificate, the property deed, and that printed photo on the table, one by one.

Freddy picked up the photo, stared at it for three seconds, then set it down without a word.

He asked, "Is this the only one?"

I said, "I screen-recorded the voice message he sent. Plus, I've got some of her chat logs with Aidan backed up from my phone."

"How bad is it?"

"Lots of flirting, plenty of it. There are three photos where they're actually touching."

Freddy nodded and fired up his computer.

"Whose name is on the house?"

"Mine. Paid in full before we got married."

"The car?"

"Mine. Got it before we tied the knot."

"What about savings?"

"We each have our own accounts. She doesn't know my password, and I don't know hers."

Freddy paused his typing and looked up at me. "How long have you been married?"

"Two years."

"Two years, and you don't have any shared assets?"

"We do. A joint gym membership. Still got eight months left."

Freddy went quiet for five seconds, then kept typing.

"So, what are you asking for?"

"I want her to walk away with nothing."

"Any kids?"

"Nope."

"Alright." He typed for a bit, then turned the screen toward me. "Here's the draft. Take a look."

I skimmed through it.

Pretty straightforward—mutual consent, no fights over property, no kids to worry about, and whatever belongs to each of us stays that way.

"Looks good," I said.

"I'll have the official draft ready this afternoon. As soon as she signs, it's official."

"Alright."

I stood up, ready to leave.

Freddy called after me, "Mason."

"Yeah?"

"She's probably not going to sign it without a fight."

"I know."

"If she drags her feet and refuses to sign, what are you gonna do?"

I pulled on my coat and zipped it up.

"She'll sign."

"Why are you so sure?"

"Because 342 people in the company group chat saw that photo," I said as I slipped my phone into my pocket. "Right now, she's not trying to save the marriage.

"She wants this whole mess to disappear. Signing the papers is the only way she can put it behind her."

Freddy stared at me for a moment, then let out a laugh.

"You're in tech, right?"

"Yeah."

"You should switch to law. You're more savage than I am."

As I stepped into the elevator after leaving the law firm, I pulled out my phone.

Emily had sent me sixty-seven messages since last night.

I didn't bother opening them, but I could see the latest ones in the notification preview. [Mason, please, just delete that message.]

[I've already taken leave. I really can't go to work right now.]

[What the hell do you want from me? What will it take for you to finally be satisfied?]

I locked my phone.

As I stepped out of the office building, the October breeze hit me in the face.

The late autumn sun wasn't scorching, just warm on my skin.

Ben was waiting in the car. When he saw me, he rolled down the window. "All set?"

I said, "Yeah. The agreement will be ready this afternoon."

"So, what now?"

"Back to work."

"You're actually going back to work?"

"Code doesn't write itself." I opened the car door and got in.

Ben started the car and glanced at me in the rearview mirror. "Dude, you wanna blow off some steam or something?"

"Like what?"

"Like, maybe curse a bit? Smash something? Or just cry it out? I swear I won't film it."

"No need."

"Seriously, are you even human?"

"Just drive."

We got to the office at 10:40.

On the way from the parking lot to the elevator, I bumped into seven coworkers.

Every single one of them did the same thing, froze for a split second, and then immediately looked away and pretended to scroll through their phones.