Chapter 5
Now, I had gone by myself. With the money he had given me, I went to the place they were supposed to go together, taking on a twelve-day "honeymoon" leave.
To Jose, this was no longer a provocation. This was a raw, blatant humiliation.
"Which hotel is she at?" Jose's voice was a low growl, forced through clenched teeth.
"We... we haven't been able to find that out yet. She booked through a private, overseas travel agency. Their client information is highly confidential," Shaun stammered.
"Useless," Jose snarled, grabbing the crystal ashtray from his desk and hurling it against the wall. It shattered into a thousand pieces.
Shaun flinched, bowing his head even lower.
Jose's chest heaved, his eyes burning with rage. He had never lost control like this. I was like a chess piece that had not only left his board but was now actively putting him in check.
"What about the phone company?" he demanded, fighting to control his rage.
Shaun whispered, "They... they said Ms. Hayes canceled the number in person with her ID. All the paperwork is in order, so it can't be reactivated. And she also signed up for an anti-harassment service. We can't trace her new number..."
Every lead was a dead end. Jose felt the stinging futility of his efforts, like a fighter whose every blow was absorbed by soft wool. It was a stifling, hollow kind of rage. He signaled for Shaun to get out. At last, he was alone.
Pacing restlessly within the confines of his office, Jose finally reached his limit. He snatched his car keys and sped toward the outskirts of the city. He was going back to the villa they called "home."
He pushed open the door. It was cold and empty. For the first time, he noticed just how large and hollow the space was.
He moved toward the dressing room instinctively. My half was a void. I had packed only the mundane pieces of my daily life. Left behind was everything he had used to "brand" me: the luxury bags, the custom gowns, and the jewelry.
It was a silent declaration that I didn't want a single thing that belongs to him.
An invisible hand seemed to squeeze Jose's heart, and he could barely breathe.
Just then, the doorbell rang. He walked over and opened it to a courier.
"Mr. Jose Trevino? A priority delivery for you. Please sign here."
Jose scrawled his name, his brow furrowing. It was a plain manila envelope with no return address. He tore it open. A few thin sheets of A4 paper fell out.
At the top, the bold, glaring letters read: [Divorce Agreement.]
His eyes scanned the document. Under the section for asset division, it was written in clear terms that I voluntarily relinquished all claims to any and all marital assets.
And at the bottom, my signature was already there, sharp and decisive, a testament to my unbreakable resolve.
Jose's hands trembled as he held the papers.
I wanted nothing, which meant I was dead set on divorcing him. He had always believed I was only with him for his money. But now, I was giving it all up.
Then what did I want? For the first time, Jose found himself without an answer. He had treated our three years together as a simple matter of give and take. But if I were leaving it all behind, what was the point of it all to me?
His phone rang, the sound jarring in the silent house.
It was Alivia. "Jose, I made you some soup. Can I bring it over? Since that woman is gone, I can move in and take care of you."
"Get lost," Jose roared into the phone, the word tearing from his throat in the most unhinged outburst of his life. Without waiting for a response, he slammed the phone down.
He stared at the divorce papers and at my name on it. A fear deeper than anger washed over him like a tidal wave. He was beginning to realize he had never truly known his wife at all.