Chapter 3
I grabbed my phone and called my best friend, a lawyer.
When she answered, I said, "Help me find the best divorce lawyer."
She paused for a moment. "Okay."
No questions, no hesitation. That was what friends were for.
Back at that so-called home, I felt the weight of the air the instant I stepped inside.
Three people were sitting on the living room couch: Mandy, Henry, and Hank.
They sat there like a tribunal, ready to interrogate me.
Mandy's face was dark with anger; Hank was glowering; and Henry, sitting in his wheelchair, looked completely unreadable.
I changed my shoes, set my bag on the entryway table, and walked over to the armchair across from them, sitting down.
"So, you still know this is your home?" Mandy struck first, her voice shrill and biting. "Getting cocky, aren't you? Actually daring to mention divorce to Hank?
"Let me tell you, Jenny, as long as I'm alive, you'll never leave the Miller family."
I didn't say a word. I sat there, watching her, waiting for her to finish.
Mandy continued, "You should feel lucky to be asked to quit your job and stay home to take care of Henry. What are you so unhappy about?
"Isn't Hank making enough money for you? Why do you insist on working outside and being seen by everyone?"
Hank jumped in, "Jenny, I'm trying to talk to you calmly. Stop causing drama.
"Let's act like nothing happened today.
"Tomorrow, quit your job and come home. Let's just go back to the way things were."
He sounded like he was doing me a favor.
The way Mandy and Hank played off each other was almost ridiculous.
"Are you done?" I said coolly.
Mandy and Hank froze.
"If you're done, it's my turn." I looked at each of them before locking eyes with Hank. "First, I'm saying it one more time: I want a divorce.
"Second, I'm not asking for your opinion. I'm letting you know."
The living room went dead silent.
Mandy opened her mouth, ready to say something, but my cold stare made her swallow her words.
Hank's face shifted from flushed to dark, looking absolutely furious.
"Jenny, do you really have to take things this far?" he gritted out.
I smiled. "You're the one who pushed me to this point."
Hank was clearly provoked by my smile. He shot up from his seat, jabbing a finger at me. "Fine. Jenny, you really have some nerve.
"You want a divorce? I'll make it happen for you."
As if steeling himself for something, a vicious smirk spread across his face. "Divorce is fine. But did you forget?"
He swept his gaze around the fancy house, his eyes full of smugness and contempt. "This house, the car, the savings.
"Guess how many of these are actually in your name, Jenny?"
"As I said at the office, we split everything fifty-fifty. The house goes to me, the car to you, and we divide the savings straight down the middle. That's non-negotiable," I stated firmly.
My words fell like a stone into a stagnant pool. Not gentle ripples, but a tsunami.
Hank's face contorted with fury.
He jabbed a finger right in my face, his voice trembling with anger. "Jenny, don't you dare take advantage of my generosity.
"Everything you eat, wear, and use comes from us. Not a single thing is yours.
"I bought this house before we got married, and it's in my name only. It's got nothing to do with you."
Mandy immediately straightened her back, as if she'd found her backbone.
"That's right," she shrieked. "This house belongs to Hank. You won't get a single brick. And the car's in Hank's name, too."
"And as for the savings," Hank let out a cold laugh, pulled out his phone, opened his banking app, and flashed it in my face. "It's all under my mother's name.
"The moment my paycheck comes in, I send it all to her.
"Jenny, if you want a divorce, all you get is the door."
The triumph on his face was naked and unhidden; it was the cruelty of a cat with its prey, the smugness of a victor.
He believed he held my lifeline in his fist.
He was waiting for me to cry, to rage, to fall at his feet and beg him to stay; he was waiting for the woman who always broke, always compromised, as she had for five years.
I looked at Hank, then at Mandy's smug, satisfied expression.
I even shot a look at Henry, who hadn't said a word the whole time.
His face stayed completely expressionless, like he was only a bystander to all of this.
This home was freezing. Cold as an ice cellar.
In that instant, I realized that one more word would be wasted breath.
Not bothering to respond to their shouting, I rose and turned toward the bedroom.