Chapter 5

I didn't open the door. Instead, I watched James on the video intercom screen. "Is this divorce Michael's idea, or yours?"

James lifted the stack of papers right up to the intercom screen.

The words "Divorce Property Agreement" were printed across the top.

"It doesn't matter whose idea it is," he said. "What matters is, since you won't play by our family's rules, you don't get to hold onto the title of Michael's wife."

I nearly burst out laughing at that. "Did you draft this agreement yourself?"

"I had a friend who's good with legal stuff put it together for me. Sign it, and tomorrow we'll get the divorce done." He sounded so sure of himself, like his word was law and I had to obey.

I told him to leave the papers by the door, and only opened up to grab them after he was gone.

The agreement was four pages long.

The first clause stated that both parties were voluntarily ending the marriage.

The second clause required me to give up any claim to the Shaw family's property.

The third clause said that all household expenses during the marriage were considered voluntary gifts, and I couldn't ask for any of them back.

But the last clause was the most ridiculous of all.

The agreement demanded that I pay 60 thousand dollars as a family compensation fee.

The reason given was that after two years of marriage without having children, I had ruined the Shaw family's hopes for the next generation.

I snapped a photo of the papers and sent it to my college classmate, Vivian Ford.

She called me back right away. "This agreement isn't worth the paper it's printed on. The apartment was never marital property, and you never claimed any ownership over it.

"And that so-called family compensation fee? That's more absurd. There's absolutely no legal basis for it."

I asked her what I needed to get ready if I wanted to officially file for divorce.

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line. Then she asked, "You've made up your mind?"

"Yeah, I have." Saying it out loud, I didn't feel nearly as awful as I thought I would.

Two years of disappointment had already worn down whatever feelings I had to almost nothing.

Vivian sent me a checklist of what I needed to prepare.

It included a marriage certificate, personal documents, proof of shared assets, and any evidence that our relationship had broken down.

I always kept my salary to myself, and Michael never put any of his income into our joint account.

We didn't own any property together, so the only thing we had to deal with was a car.

We bought the car in the second year of our marriage for a total of 126 thousand dollars.

I paid the 93-thousand-dollar down payment, and the rest of the loan was deducted from my bank account. But the car was registered under Michael's name.

Back then, he said there was no need for couples to be so picky about splitting things up.

Now it was obvious he used that as an excuse to turn my money into his own assets.

I logged into my bank account and exported all the payment records. Then I called the parking management office to ask where the car was.

The staff on duty told me the car had pulled into the Shaw residence half an hour ago.

I didn't rush to deal with it. Instead, I sorted and saved all the documents by category.

*****

The next morning, I headed to work like any other day.

The R&D department was deep into a crucial round of testing, and we had to wrap up the first review before the end of the month.

Halfway through the meeting, I got a sudden message from the HR manager, asking me to come to the reception room.

When I opened the door, I found Michael slumped on the sofa.

He had dark circles under his eyes, with the divorce agreement from last night lying on the table in front of him.

The HR manager stood nearby, looking a bit uncomfortable. "Ms. Harrison, this gentleman says it's a family emergency, and he needs to talk to you face-to-face."

I told the manager he could go, then shut the door behind him.

Michael shot to his feet. "Did my dad come by last night?"

"He did," I replied.

"That agreement wasn't my idea."

"But you still brought it here today."

His fingers dug into the paper. "I want you to know my parents are really pissed off. If you go back and apologize now, there's still a chance to fix things."

I sat down across from him. "What do you mean? So what? Am I supposed to give up half my paycheck, or is it enough if Jessica only takes one room?"

His face flushed red at my words. "Do you really have to be so sarcastic with me? I had a big fight with my parents last night, and they're willing to compromise now.

"As long as you pay 3,000 dollars a month, you won't have to worry about any household expenses anymore," he finished.

Seeing the way he acted like everything was his right, I completely lost any interest in talking to him. "I'll have my lawyer draft the divorce papers. The car counts as marital property, so I want it split based on what we each paid.

"Our personal savings will be calculated legally."

Michael shot to his feet. "You're really going through with this?"

"Yes."

"Is it because my mom asked you to give up your salary?"

"It's because your whole family thinks everything I earn should be under your control, and every time we have a problem, you always expect me to be the one to give in."

He paced back and forth in the room a couple of times. "Don't come crying to me when you regret this. Vertex Lofts is a perk for now. You really think you can live there forever?

"Once the company takes it back, you won't have a place to crash."

I never mentioned to him that I had a place I had bought before we got married. It was currently being rented out, and the lease was set to expire at the end of the year.

I never moved in because it was too far from the office.

Seeing me stay silent, he thought he'd found my weak spot. "If you call off the divorce now, I can keep this from my parents. But if this gets out, you'll be the one who ends up embarrassed."

Suddenly, the door to the reception room swung open.

The project director, Adrian Blackwell, stood in the doorway, holding a stack of documents. "Ms. Harrison, the client arrived early."

After speaking, he shot a glance at Michael. "Also, the legal department received a formal complaint. The complaint says you abused your position to illegally apply for a 1,800-square-foot apartment."