Chapter 4
Michael just stood there, stunned as a stone statue weathered in an instant.
Divorce.
The word slipped off my tongue, light yet unbearably heavy, heavy enough to shatter every bit of his facade.
"No."
He protested immediately, not even thinking.
"I won't divorce you."
He rushed toward me, panic flooding his face like never before.
"Claire, please, listen. I was out of my mind. I was an idiot!
"It was just a fling! You're the only one I've ever loved. This family is where I truly belong!"
He reached for my arm, his eyes begging.
I stepped back, dodging his touch.
All that so-called sincerity on his face just made me want to throw up.
"Just a fling?"
I repeated the word, a cold, mocking smile on my lips.
"Michael, do you really think I'm that easy to fool?
"First time, it's just a fling. Second time, it's a coincidence. What about the third time?
"And you set up a whole other home upstairs, partying every night. Was that just a fling, too?"
My voice wasn't loud, but every word landed like a nail, driving straight into his heart.
His face went even whiter.
"I... I didn't... we didn't..." He stammered defensively.
"You didn't?"
I looked at him, icy and unflinching. "Let me help you jog your memory.
"Two months ago, you said you were off at a meeting in the neighboring city, and your phone was off due to being out of battery. That night, the leak upstairs was a total disaster.
"A month ago, you said you were at some company team-building, crashing overnight out in the suburbs. That night, the leak upstairs kicked off again.
"Michael, were all those so-called business trips, meetings, and team-buildings just you shacking up in apartment 602?"
He was utterly lost for words.
Beads of cold sweat started forming on his forehead.
He never saw this coming. He never expected me to remember it all so clearly.
He thought I was just a naive housewife who knew nothing but spinning around the kitchen and the kid.
He thought his lies were flawless.
He totally underestimated how sharp a mom's instincts got when she had a family to protect.
And he way overestimated how clever he was at cheating.
"Claire..." Michael's voice trembled. "For Lily's sake, please, just give me one more chance."
He was pulling the kid card. That was his last, and dirtiest, move.
"Don't drag Lily into this."
My gaze turned icy in an instant. "You have no right to even mention her.
"When you came home and hugged her with the smell of another woman's perfume, did you think about Lily?
"When you used the money that was supposed to buy us a home to support another woman, did you ever think about Lily?
"Michael, you're the one who destroyed her family with your own hands. And now, what gives you the right to use her as your shield?"
Every word I spoke was like a sharp knife, slicing his phony fatherly love to shreds.
He stumbled back two steps and slumped against the couch, as if someone had drained every ounce of strength from his body.
The living room was dead silent.
Only the clock on the wall kept ticking, never stopping.
Tick, tock. Tick, tock. It was as if the clock was counting down the final moments of our thirteen-year love.
After a long pause, Michael finally looked up, eyes bloodshot.
"What do you want?" Michael asked, his voice rough, as if he'd resigned himself to his fate.
I knew Michael wasn't really giving up. He was just buying time, like always.
He wanted to solve it with money, the same way he handled every problem.
"I want a divorce." I repeated, "The house goes to me. Lily stays with me. And the car is mine.
"I don't want your company shares or your savings, but you need to pay child support for Lily until she graduates from college.
"Twenty thousand dollars a month."
I laid out my terms, my voice steady and calm.
Michael's head snapped up, staring at me like he couldn't believe what he was hearing.
"Claire, are you out of your mind?"
He growled, "Why should the house go to you? That's our marital property! Twenty thousand dollars a month for child support? Why don't you just rob me blind?"
The moment his core interests were at stake, he would instantly tear off his mask of remorse, revealing his true, selfish, and hideous nature.
"Why?" I let out a cold laugh. "Because you cheated on me. You're the one at fault.
"Michael, I'm not here to negotiate. I'm informing you.
"If you agree to these terms, we'll get this over with.
"If you don't, we'll see each other in court.
"And when that happens, I'm not the one who's going to look bad."
I stared him down, not giving an inch.
Michael was trembling with fury, his finger shaking as he pointed at me, unable to say a word for a long moment.
Right then, the sound of the doorbell echoed through the room, breaking the tense silence between us.
Michael, thinking it was his savior, barked, "Who is it?"
I ignored him and walked straight to the door.
There was a courier standing outside.
"Hello, this is a package for Mrs. Evans. Please sign for it."
I signed for it and took the package.
Then I closed the door.
With Michael practically shooting daggers at me, I took my time opening the little box, not rushing for his sake.
Inside, a slim black pen-shaped device sat quietly. It was the recording pen I'd ordered.
My weapon was finally here.
I clenched it in my palm, then looked up at Michael and flashed him a smile.
The kind of smile that made Michael's blood run cold.
"Now, we can continue our conversation."