Chapter 2
"That's her own fault. She's nobody."
I was a nobody. It sounded pretty accurate.
I looked at myself in the mirror, and suddenly felt a sense of relief. It was time to end this.
*****
The next morning, as Ethan was heading out, I was in the kitchen heating up some milk.
He glanced at me while he was putting on his shoes.
"Why did you leave early last night?" he asked.
"I wasn't feeling well," I replied.
"If you're not feeling well, don't drink anything cold," he said.
With that, Ethan walked out the door.
That was the gentlest thing he'd said to me in three years, but I was pretty sure it wasn't really meant for me.
It was only because Iris told him last night, "Ethan, you should treat Ophelia better."
He was pretending.
But it didn't matter. I didn't need to keep up the act anymore.
At ten in the morning, I left the house.
I wasn't going to the hospital. I headed to Emma Burgess's law firm instead.
Emma was my only friend from college. She went to law school. Now, she was one of the top divorce lawyers in town.
As soon as Emma saw me walk in, she put down her coffee cup.
"So, you finally decided?" Emma asked.
"Help me write up a divorce agreement," I said.
"So, how do you want to split everything?"
"I don't want a thing."
Emma frowned.
"I don't want a single thing from the Hudson family," I said, sitting down. "House, cars, money, shares. I'm giving it all up. I only want the divorce papers."
Emma said, "Are you out of your mind? You've been married to him for three years. Even if you didn't get much out of it, you still went through a lot."
I looked at her. "Emma, I want a clean break. If I don't take a dime, he won't have any excuse to stall the divorce."
Emma stared at me for a long moment.
"Did something happen?" she asked.
"No, nothing happened. I'm just done with all of this," I replied.
She didn't press me any further. She opened her laptop and started drafting the agreement.
While typing, she said without looking up, "Your studio's been pulling in some big deals lately, and there's a nice chunk of cash in your account. Want me to help you move your assets around before anything happens?"
"Already did," I replied.
Emma let out a laugh. "Guess you've really been planning this for a while."
Not just a while. It was three years.
From the very first day I married into the Hudson family, I knew I didn't belong there.
But I still stayed for three years, because I thought he'd finally see me.
Now, I finally had to admit it. He was never going to see me.
At three in the afternoon, I got back to the Hudson family's villa.
I found the living room occupied.
Judith Cannon, my mother-in-law, was sipping coffee on the sofa.
Iris was right beside her. They were chatting and laughing like old friends.
When I walked in, Judith's smile faded a little.
"You're back?" she asked.
"Yeah," I replied.
"Iris dropped by, so I'm having her stay for dinner. Go let Penelope know to make a few more dishes," Judith said.
Making me tell the maid to cook extra for someone else.
Three years ago, words like that would've really stung.
But I didn't feel a thing now.
"Okay," I said.
As I turned to head to the kitchen, Iris spoke up. "Don't worry about it, Ophelia. I'll eat whatever's around. No need to fuss."
She watched me as she spoke, her smile perfectly measured.
It wasn't a challenge, and it wasn't dismissive. It was the kind of quiet certainty that said, "I'm the one who truly belongs here."
I looked at her, stayed silent, and went upstairs.
Once I got to my bedroom, I opened the closet and pulled out my suitcase.
I started folding my clothes, one by one.
Three years, and I still didn't have much. I'd only brought two suitcases when I married into the Hudson family, and I wasn't taking anything extra with me when I left.
The clothes, jewelry, and bags Ethan had bought for me were all neatly arranged on the right side of the walk-in closet.
I didn't even bother with them.
Halfway through packing, the door swung open.
Judith stood in the doorway, her face darkening when she saw the open suitcase on the floor.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"Packing," I replied.
"Packing what?" she demanded.
I put the last sweater in the suitcase and zipped it up.
"Judith, I'm divorcing Ethan," I said.
"What did you say?" Judith grabbed the doorframe. "Divorce? Say it one more time?"
"I'm divorcing Ethan," I said.
I picked up my suitcase and headed for the door.
Judith stepped in front of me, blocking my way.
"Ophelia, you've been living under the Hudson family's roof for three years, eating our food, staying in our house, and now you think you can leave?" she snapped.
I replied, "I told you, I'm not taking a single thing from the Hudson family."
"You think you can walk in and out of this house whenever you feel like it?" she snapped.
I stopped in my tracks and looked at her calmly. "So what, are you saying that even if I wanted to stay, you'd still kick me out?"
Judith was at a loss for words.
From downstairs, Iris called out, "Judith, what's going on?"
She always called my mother-in-law "Judith," but Judith usually preferred that others call her Mrs. Hudson.
Iris had been calling her that for three years, and Judith had never once corrected her.
I carried my suitcase down the stairs.
Iris was standing in the middle of the living room, holding a cup of coffee Judith had made.
When she saw me with my suitcase, she froze for a second.
"Ophelia, what are you doing?" she asked.
"Ms. Wheeler," I said, stopping right in front of her. "From now on, you're the lady of the house."
I didn't wait for her to respond. I opened the door and walked out.
Judith's voice rang out behind me, sharp and angry. "Ophelia, stop right there! If you walk out that door, don't even think about coming back!"
I turned to look at her and said, "I'm not coming back."
As the door closed behind me, I heard the wheels of my suitcase rolling across the marble floor.
The sound was loud.
It was like putting a period on everything.
At eight that evening, Ethan got home.
He found the closet half empty, and a note waiting for him on the coffee table.
The note said, "The divorce agreement has been given to Emma Burgess. Please sign it as soon as possible."
He called me within ten seconds.
"Ophelia, where are you?" Ethan asked.
"I'm out," I replied.
"Come home," he said.
"I told you, Ethan. I want a divorce," I said.
There was a three-second silence on the other end.
"Why are you making a fuss? Is this because of last night?" Ethan said.
I replied, "I'm not making a fuss. The agreement spells it out. I'm walking away from everything. All you have to do is sign."
Another three seconds of silence.
"I'm not signing," Ethan said.
"Then we'll do this the legal way," I replied.
I hung up.
My phone started ringing again.
Once. Twice. Five times.
I switched it off.
For the first time in three years, I ended the call with Ethan.
Outside my window, the city lights twinkled in the night.
I was standing in my own apartment. I'd bought the place with my own money, and not a single person in the Hudson family knew about it.
It was 1,200 square feet, with a south-facing balcony where I'd planted mint and rosemary.
This was my real home.
The next morning, Ethan showed up at my company.
Not my apartment, but my little design studio under my own name.
The receptionist at the front desk almost spilled her coffee when she saw Ethan walk in.