"One more thing," my attorney asked. "When your parents backed her startup—did they get that in writing?"
They did.
Paula had insisted on a formal IOU. She'd made me film the whole thing, said she wanted my family to have peace of mind. My parents tried to refuse, told her it wasn't necessary.
She wouldn't budge.
"Elliot," she'd said, her voice soft but firm. "I don't want anyone thinking I'm taking advantage of your family. Keep this safe. It's your protection."
Now.
I stared at that same IOU in my hands, the USB drive with the video beside it, listening to my attorney explain.
"With these documents alone—"
"There's more."
I cut him off and pulled out the company registration papers. Back when Paula founded the business, some fortune teller told her my birth chart was more auspicious—better for attracting wealth. So she put everything under my name. The company. Every piece of real estate we owned together.
I laid it all on the table.
"This is enough to make Paula come crawling."
My attorney studied the documents. I met his eyes.
"I don't just want her left with nothing. I want her reputation destroyed."
I returned from the law firm to the home Paula and I had shared for three years.
At the entryway, a vase of roses sat waiting—the ones Paula had prepared for me. They'd wilted beyond recognition now, petals curled and brown. A card rested against the vase.
Wishing my husband happiness forever.
In the corner, she'd drawn a little smiley face.
Paula used to leave me fresh flowers every single day. Five years. Never missed once.
Now.
I watched her walk through the door carrying a new bouquet, her expression perfectly serene as her eyes met mine.
"Elliot."
She acted like nothing had happened. Set the fresh flowers down, plucked the dead roses from the vase, and tossed them in the trash.
"We're husband and wife. Those other men are just... entertainment."
"You should understand that." She moved closer. "Can we please stop fighting?"
The perfume clinging to her wasn't mine.
That cloying sweetness turned my stomach. I stepped back instinctively, and before I knew it, my palm had connected with her face. I threw the divorce papers at her feet.
"Paula."
"Adultery during marriage. Fraudulent transfer of marital assets. Every dollar you spent on Rupert." I watched her expression freeze. "You have two choices."
"Sign the papers. Walk away with some dignity."
She snatched up the agreement, staring at me in disbelief.
"Or fight me in court." I held her stunned gaze. "Less dignified, but the outcome's the same—you leave with nothing."
Paula tore the papers in half. Then again. A cold laugh escaped her throat.
"Elliot!"
"You're dreaming!"
"Leave with nothing?"
"Who the hell do you think you are?"
She flung the shredded pages into the air. Fragments of paper drifted down around us like snow, settling on the floor.
I watched her face darken to fury as she advanced on me, each word sharp as a blade.
"Elliot!"
"If you think I'm walking away empty-handed—"
"That will never happen!"
She opened her mouth to say more, but her phone erupted with notifications. Irritation flashed across her face as she glanced at the screen, jabbed the answer button, and snapped into the receiver.
"What?"
Then.
I watched the color drain from her face, inch by inch, until she was chalk-white. Her eyes found mine, wide with disbelief.
