After my mom won the lottery, she decided to head to the provincial capital overnight to avoid any complications, planning to claim the prize first thing in the morning.
I thought it would be nice to bring my husband along to share in the good fortune—and maybe surprise him with the Porsche he'd always wanted.
I called him over a dozen times while he was supposedly working late.
When he finally picked up, he sounded distracted, laughing and chatting with some female coworker in the background.
It wasn't until I said, "Your mom won the lottery!" that he actually paid attention.
His voice shifted instantly—barely concealed excitement and glee.
"How much?"
I smiled to myself, deciding to lowball it for now as a little surprise. "Fifty million. She wants you to take her to the provincial capital to collect it. Hurry home, and we can all go togeth—"
He cut me off sharply. "Your mom? That's my mom!"
"Let me make one thing clear, Zelda Swanson—don't even think about touching a cent of my money. When I get back, we're getting divorced."
My grip tightened around the phone. My heart shattered in two.
The man who'd sworn he loved me—the moment he thought his mother had won the lottery, his first instinct was to divorce me.
Fine. If that's what you want.
1.
"Okay."
He was so thrilled to be rid of me that he forgot to hang up.
And just like that, he started flirting with his coworker right there on the line.
I heard him do something that made her squeal.
Her syrupy voice floated through the speaker: "Oh, stop it! Your mom just won fifty million—you're going to be a multimillionaire! You'd better not forget about me."
Clement's voice dripped with smug satisfaction. "Of course not. Now that I've dumped that worn-out hag, you'll be the lady of the James household."
"Wow, babe! Your mom is so lucky. She's got great taste."
"Obviously," he preened. "My mother's always been sharp—nothing like that annoying old bat who raised Zelda."
The irony was suffocating. We weren't even divorced yet, and his mistress was already calling him "babe."
And that "annoying old bat" he was mocking? Just moments ago, she'd been talking about buying him a car.
A Porsche worth over a million dollars—she was willing to buy it for her son-in-law. Meanwhile, when I'd asked for a thirty-thousand-dollar handbag, she'd scolded me for being wasteful.
I couldn't stomach another second of their nauseating conversation. I hung up.
Then I turned to my mom, who'd been waiting eagerly for her son-in-law to arrive so they could all go claim the prize together, and told her everything.
Tears spilled from her clouded eyes.
She trembled with rage, gripping my hand so tightly her knuckles went white. This woman, well past fifty, was too hurt to even speak.
My heart sank. I looked her straight in the eyes and said firmly, "Mom, you're the one who won the lottery. Don't tell Clement."
She looked confused, so I explained slowly: "Since he wants to be heartless, let him stay in the dark. After the divorce is finalized, we'll tell him the truth—and watch just how far he's willing to go."
A few minutes later, there was rustling outside the door. The electronic lock beeped, and the door swung open with force.
Clement James walked in. The moment he saw me and my mother, undisguised disgust flickered across his face.
He sneered. "What's this? Heard my mom won the lottery and came running to beg for scraps?"
Before I could respond, he glared at me, his eyes sharp with hostility and suspicion. "Don't even think about getting your hands on my money, Zelda."
"Sign this agreement and get the hell out of my house—take your mother with you."
What I hadn't expected was that he'd be so eager he'd actually brought divorce papers with him.
I studied his smug, self-satisfied face with detached amusement, then smiled meaningfully.
"Are you sure you want a divorce?"
