I left the house and jumped into my car without looking back. My phone kept buzzing with Derek's calls and messages, but I ignored every single one.
The divorce lawyer's office was quiet when I walked in. I slapped down my ID and marriage certificate, got the paperwork, and filled everything out in record time. The final document awaited only Derek's signature, and then I'd be free of his pathetic obsession with Tara.
When I walked out of that building, I smiled for the first time in months. The sun warmed my face as I breathed in sweet freedom.
I couldn't face going home. Instead, I did something I'd never dared before.
I pulled out my phone and logged into our joint account—the one Derek always controlled.
Five years of marriage, and he'd insisted we maintain one account with both our names on it for emergencies. I'd never touched it, not once.
My fingers traced the raised numbers. According to Derek, there was nearly $3.4 million in there. His rainy-day fund. His security blanket.
Too bad it was about to rain.
I transferred $2.5 million to the children's orphanage where I'd first met him. The same place where he'd fooled me with his fake kindness and warmth.
Next, I drove to Luxury Mannequins, the most exclusive display figure boutique in the city. The saleswoman's jaw dropped when I placed my order.
"You want... how many mannequins?" she stammered.
"Fifty-six," I replied calmly. "And I need them delivered today. I'll pay extra."
The truck was being loaded when Derek finally got through on my phone.
DEREK: "WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU JUST DO WITH MY MONEY?"
I responded. "Bought myself a divorce present with our emergency fund. Consider it payment for five years of fake marriage and real disappointment."
"You're out of your goddamn mind! Do you know what you've done? I needed that money—"
I ended the call and turned back to the saleswoman.
After finalizing my purchase, I headed straight to Derek's private garage where he kept his collection of luxury cars. The keypad code hadn't changed since I'd last seen him enter it.
Inside sat his most prized possession: a limited-edition Bugatti he'd never even let me touch. The one he'd always promised to take his precious Tara for a ride in someday.
I snapped a picture of myself sitting in the driver's seat and sent it to him with the message: "Permit me to use your prized and treasured possession."
His reply was immediate: "DON'T YOU DARE."
The engine purred to life and I felt a rush of power as I pulled out onto the open road. At every stoplight, I snapped photos and posted them to my social media. Finally getting what I deserve, I captioned them.
By evening I pulled into Giovanni's, the most expensive restaurant in town.
The hostess led me to a table by the window. I ordered everything expensive on the menu—the aged steak, the rare caviar, the champagne. I was halfway through my Lobster when they burst through the door.
Derek looked like he was about to have an aneurysm. But it was Tara who charged toward me first.
"You BITCH! How dare you drive HIS car! That's my brother's baby!"
I took another bite of the Lobster. "Mmm. This is divine. You should try it—oh wait, you can't. I spent all your dinner money."
Derek grabbed a chair from a nearby table, dragging it across the floor.
"Do you have any idea what you've done? That account was for emergencies."
"This is an emergency," I replied. "My emergency exit from this sham of a marriage."
Tara's face had turned an alarming shade of red. "He promised we would ride in that car together for the first time! It was supposed to be OUR special moment!"
I took another bite of steak, chewing slowly before answering. "Well, I beat you to it."
"You've ruined everything!" Tara continued. "He's broke now because of you! He can't even buy me my favorite dessert for my birthday next week!"
Derek approached, grabbing Tara's arm but she wrenched free. "I've been with him since childhood. I'm the one who knows him, who understands him! You're just a gold-digging whore who stole him away! Now he's more focused on your drama than on me!"
I smiled coldly. "Not my fault if he married me instead of keeping his attention on you. Perhaps you should ask yourself why."
"Get away from our special table," Tara hissed, her hands trembling. "This is OUR place."
"Seems like a public restaurant to me." I took another bite.
"You don't deserve any of this. You don't deserve him!"
"Neither do you, apparently," I replied, watching her face contort.
Derek tried to pull her back, but she lunged forward, grabbing a steak knife from my table. Her eyes were wild and unhinged.
"You should just die for coming between us! Then I’ll have him all to myself." she screamed and drove the knife straight into my chest.
