Chapter 5
Too boring?
I actually almost laughed out loud.
I asked, "How long have you two been seeing each other?"
"A little over a year," she replied.
That meant he started screwing around right after our second anniversary.
"Did you know he was in a near-fatal car crash?" I asked.
She nodded.
"I visited him at the hospital," she said.
I froze for a second.
"When?" I asked.
"Right around the time you were busy selling off your real estate," she said, offering me a look of cloying pity. "He specifically asked me not to let you find out."
He told her to hide it.
I was sleeping on a plastic bench for thirty-seven nights, and he was taking secret visits from his side piece.
"And what exactly are you two?" I asked.
"You want the brutal truth?" she said.
"Of course," I replied.
She took a delicate sip of her iced latte and set it down.
"He said he's divorcing you. Once he's fully recovered, it's over."
"And then?"
"And then he's marrying me. Obviously."
I stared at her, and suddenly, a bizarre wave of utter calm washed over me.
"And what exactly is he going to use to marry you? Because right now, every dollar to his name belongs to me."
Her smug smile faltered.
"What are you talking about?"
"I mean," I leaned in, pronouncing every word perfectly, "do you have any idea how underwater he is on his mortgage? Do you have a clue who actually paid for his little hospital vacation?"
Her face dropped.
"Didn't his parents pay for the hospital?"
I barked a laugh.
"His parents? They didn't chip in a dime. I covered the entire $250,000. I sold my condo, raided my mother's retirement fund, and threw away my career. And his very first words to me when he woke up were to tell me to get out."
She was starting to look pale.
"You're... you're bluffing."
"Am I?"
I slid my phone across the table with the hospital billing dashboard open, revealing a quarter of a million dollars in expenses split into a dozen brutal and glaringly clear transactions.
She stared at the screen, her manicured fingers beginning to tremble.
"But he told me... he said his family was loaded..."
"His family?" I sneered. "His parents own one house, and it's strictly in their name. His own house? Mostly owned by the bank. When he nearly died, his mother's first instinct was to force me to sell my own property, because his assets were 'family wealth' and strictly off-limits."
Her face flushed crimson and went completely pale.
"You want to know the punchline?"
I snatched my phone back.
"He dumped me using the 'you deserve better' excuse. He didn't even have the balls to tell me the real reason."
She was speechless.
It took her a full minute to find her voice.
"So... what are you going to do?"
"Divorce him."
"And then?"
"I'm getting every last cent of my money back."
She looked at me with a mess of panic and guilt.
"Look, I'm going to be completely honest," she said, pushing her coffee away. "I had no idea he was playing you like that. I really just thought he was just bored and wanted to upgrade his life."
"Upgrade his life?"
I laughed out loud in the empty office.
"Oh, he's upgrading alright. He just forgot that the shiny new life he's building is entirely funded by me."
I grabbed my purse and stood up, ready to leave.
"Wait," she called out. "Aren't you mad at me?"
I paused and glanced back at her.
"Mad at you? You didn't hold a gun to my head and make me sell my house."
"But I..." she started.
"You're just the side piece," I cut her off smoothly. "He's the one who destroyed my life."
She opened her mouth, but she had absolutely nothing to say.
"Actually, there is one thing I'll give you," I said.
"What is it?" she asked.
"He promised he'd divorce me and marry you, right?"
She gave a slow nod.
"And you genuinely believe him?"
She hesitated.
"I..." she started.
"Word of advice? Don't," I said. "A guy who can look his wife in the eye, tell her 'you deserve better,' and try to leave her completely bankrupt? You really think he's going to treat you like a princess?"
Her face went even paler.
I walked out of the café and into the bright afternoon sun. I stood on the sidewalk and took a long breath.
I finally figured out the truth.
Michael had been cheating for a year.
Even in a coma, his main goal was figuring out how to ditch me.
When he fed me that "you deserve better" garbage, it wasn't out of remorse. It was a pathetic attempt to clear his conscience and his debts in one breath.
He really thought one cliché line would wipe the slate clean.
What an absolute joke.
I stepped up to the curb and hailed a cab.
"Where to?" the driver asked.
I replied, "168 Main Street. The Carter residence."
It was time to settle the score.