Screw the Diamonds, I'm Done.

On our tenth wedding anniversary, my husband, Wright Charlotte, was not with me.

His private jet had taken him and his assistant to a Michelin-starred restaurant instead.

When he returned, he presented me with an exquisite blue diamond ring to make amends.

"Rannie, darling. I'm just so buried in work."

The next day, I saw a limited-edition vintage sports car, far more valuable, parked in his assistant's designated spot.

Then, they made love in my house while I was sleeping.

To keep me pacified, Wright drowned me in luxury.

The haute couture gowns and exclusive handbags felt like a mockery.

I glanced at the calendar.

The countdown began: fourteen days.

Before I left, I prepared a gift for my husband and give him a ... surprise.

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1

"Congratulations, Ms. Vance. Your new identity and French residency are confirmed. Do you wish to maintain any links to your previous documentation?" the consultant asked.

"Erase everything."

The man paused, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. "A complete erasure means all records are wiped. No history, no digital footprint. You will be utterly untraceable."

A small smile touched my lips. "That is precisely the point."

"Very well, Ms. Vance. I will initiate the final protocol. The process completes in fourteen days. Please be mindful of the timeline."

Leaving the discreet downtown office, the weight on my shoulders felt lighter. A one-way ticket to French was tucked inside my purse, a tangible promise of freedom.

In the adjacent Times Square, a colossal screen broadcasting financial news made pedestrians stop and stare.

"Breaking News: Wright Charlotte, CEO of Charlotte Holdings, has acquired the legendary ‘Ocean's Heart’ blue diamond ring for fifty million dollars at a private auction. Sources confirm it is one of the rarest gems in the world. When asked for comment, Mr. Charlotte simply stated, 'My wife has always been drawn to the color of the deep sea.'"

The announcement caused a ripple of excited gasps from a group of young women nearby.

"Oh my God! Wright and Rannie are legit #CoupleGoals!" one of them exclaimed.

"Totally! Remember when he bought out that entire art gallery opening just so she could have a private viewing? It’s insane!" the other added.

"And they've been together since Yale! From campus sweethearts to this… God, where do I find a man like Wright?"

Their enthusiastic chatter continued, but all I felt was a bitter, biting irony.

It was true, Wright and I were college sweethearts. He was captivated by my thesis exhibition at the art school. The Charlotte heir, the golden boy of Wall Street, pursued me with a relentless determination.

I, however, had resisted his world of staggering opulence, turning down his advances time and time again.

But Wright’s persistence was unyielding. He chased me for four years, completely unfazed by my rejections. On his last night as a senior, he showed up at my humble off-campus apartment, drunk and stripped of his usual arrogance.

"Rannie," he begged, his voice cracking as tears streamed down his face, "please, just give us a chance. Let me be the man who worships you. I swear on my life, you'll be the only one. Forever."

Despite his disheveled state—the scent of expensive whiskey on his breath and his eyes red-rimmed—his gaze held a raw sincerity that stopped me. His eyes burned with a love so pure, I found myself nodding, agreeing to his plea.

At our wedding at The Plaza, he recounted this story with pride. "From this day forward, Rannie and I are more than partners in life—we are bound by law and a love that will defy time! I promise to cherish her, always!"

Thunderous applause filled the grand ballroom as our friends and family celebrated our union.

In the first years of our marriage, Wright kept his promises. He showered me with devotion and lavish gifts—rare treasures only a man of his stature could procure.