Sure enough, three days later, she couldn't hold back anymore.
The doorbell rang, and Eleanor Butler appeared on my doorstep.
She was younger and prettier than in her photos, her belly slightly rounded. Four months along, at least.
She looked me up and down with open appraisal, not bothering to hide her contempt, and said in a tone dripping with superiority:“I'm Eleanor Butler. Mind if we have a little chat?”
She didn't wait for my answer before stepping right into my home.
Her gaze swept the outdated decor, and that mocking look deepened.“Juliana, you've been married to Martin for three years and this is where you live?”
When Martin and I got married, he told me the company was in a critical growth phase. No money for a wedding, let alone renovations. We rented this apartment, and every piece of furniture in it was secondhand.
When I didn't respond, Eleanor continued:“I won't waste your time. Some things are better said face to face.”
“Martin and I have been together for two years. We're truly in love. Being with you makes him miserable — unhappy every single day.”
“If you really loved him, you'd let him go.”
Then she deliberately thrust out her small bump, preening as she told me:“I'm pregnant. Four months.”
“And you? Three years of marriage and you couldn't give him a single child.”
“Juliana, do you know what matters most to a man once he's made it?”
“Legacy. An heir. Someone to carry on his bloodline.”
“What you can't give him, I already have.”
“So tell me, what exactly do you have left to compete with?”
“Walk away now while it's still civil. That's got to be better than dragging this out until it gets ugly for everyone. Don't you think?”
She pulled a divorce agreement and a check for a hundred thousand dollars from her bag, set them both in front of me, and smiled:“Consider the check my way of compensating you.”
“After all, you've put in the years with Martin. You deserve something for your trouble.”
I flipped through the divorce agreement. It required me to leave the marriage with nothing.
I laughed coldly:“Did Martin send you here?”
“And if I don't sign?”
The mockery on Eleanor's face thickened:“Martin doesn't know I'm here. This is between us women. He doesn't need to know.”
“Signing or not signing won't change anything. He sleeps next to me now. In three years of marriage, how many times did he even touch you?”
“If you hadn't bankrolled his startup back then, you think he would've married you at all?”
“Juliana, wake up. Martin never loved you.”
Eleanor pointed at the wedding photo of Martin and me hanging on the wall, that same smug smile on her lips:“You've been keeping that spot warm long enough. It's my turn now.”
Eleanor had come here today to force my hand.
Whether this was Martin's idea or she'd taken it upon herself to show up and provoke me no longer mattered.
I looked at her, expression blank:“You done?”
“Martin and I are still legally married. That baby in your belly? The law calls it a child born out of wedlock. If you want the less polite version, it's an illegitimate child.”
“This hundred thousand dollars. Is it from your own savings, or did Martin give it to you?”
“Because if it came from him, that's marital property. And you'll have to pay it back.”
“Oh, and that condo at Moonview Bay? Purchased with income earned during our marriage. Legally, half the title belongs to me. So don't assume that just because your name's on the deed, the place is yours. Understood?”
