Signed a Deal to Ruin my Ex-Husband

Ninety-nine. That was the number of times my husband, Colton, had betrayed me. But the hundredth infidelity was the one that severed the last thread of my sanity: Elaine, my best friend.

When Colton walked in and saw the dossier of photos spread across the bed, he didn't even look shocked. He just sighed, dismissing my pain as if it were a clerical error.

"I want a divorce," I said, my voice trembling with suppressed rage. "I want you out of my house, and I want you out of my company. I built Vance Tech while you were failing economics. I’m taking it all back."

"You aren't going anywhere," he said, stepping closer. "You’re my wife. You don't get to ruin my reputation. You belong to me."

He crossed the room in two strides, grabbing my arm hard enough to bruise and shoving me backward onto the bed. When I screamed, he pinned my wrists, his weight crushing the breath from my lungs.

I tried to resist, but then he forced himself on me. And when I reported it to the police, they laughed at me.

"Mrs. Vance, go home. Sleep it off."

"Excuse me?" I stared at him. "I’m trying to file a report for attempted rape."

"You’re married," the officer said, his tone patronizing, as if explaining gravity to a toddler. "You can't rape your wife. That’s part of the deal, sweetheart. It’s a domestic dispute. We don't get involved in bedroom quarrels."

"It wasn't a quarrel! It was assault!" I slammed my hand on the desk. "He hurt me!"

Twenty minutes later, Colton walked in.

"She’s been under so much pressure," Colton told the police, holding his hands up in a gesture of helplessness. "She’s been seeing things. Paranoia. She thinks everyone is against her."

"I’m not paranoid!" I screamed as two officers grabbed my arms. "He’s lying! Check the bruises!"

"Self-inflicted," Colton said sadly. "She does it for attention."

"Take her to St. Jude’s," the sergeant ordered. "Psych hold. 72 hours. For her own safety."

I screamed until my throat bled, but no one listened. They dragged me out like a criminal.

I spent five days in a white room until Colton finally came to sign my discharge papers. He brought me back to the mansion I had paid for. He tucked me into bed. He told me to rest.

Until I overheard the worst.

"God, that was close. If she had actually filed for divorce before the gala, we’d be screwed,” Elaine said.

"She won't," Colton said. “I have the power of attorney papers ready. We just need to trigger her one more time."

"The birthday plan?"

"Exactly," Colton said. "Friday is her thirtieth. We throw the party. I’ve hired the actor to approach her, claim they’ve been having an affair. I’ve planted the drugs in her purse. When she starts screaming—and she will—we’ll have the witnesses we need. The board will vote to remove her as CEO due to mental instability."

My breath hitched.

"And the company?" Elaine asked.

"Mine," Colton replied smoothly. "She built it, sure. She wrote the code in college while I fetched her coffee. But she signed the prenup. If she’s declared incompetent, control of her assets transfers to her spouse. I get the company. I get the money. And I get to commit her to a long-term facility."

"You’re brilliant, baby," Elaine cooed.

"I never loved her," Colton said, his voice dripping with disdain. "She was a useful nerd. A stepping stone. But God, she’s exhausted."

I sat on the stairs, the cold wood pressing into my legs.

My entire life—the late nights coding, the sacrifices, the love I had poured into him for ten years—it was all a lie. He had been planning this. He was going to steal my life’s work and lock me away in a padded cell to rot.

I didn't cry. The tears were gone. In their place was a cold, hard resolve.

I crept back to bed.

I reached under the loose floorboard beneath the nightstand—my old hiding spot for emergency cash and a burner phone I used for two-factor authentication on secure servers. Colton didn't know it existed.

I pulled out the phone. My hands were steady.

I dialed a number I hadn't called in seven years.

"Hello?" The voice was sharp, imperious.

"Auntie," I said.

Silence stretched on the line. My aunt, the matriarch of the Blackwell family, the woman who had disowned me when I married Colton. She had called him a snake the day she met him.

"Samantha," she said, her tone unreadable. "To what do I owe the pleasure? Finally tired of playing house with the pauper?"

"You were right," I said. "About everything. He’s... he’s trying to destroy me, Auntie. He’s trying to steal my company and have me committed."

"What do you want?"

"I’ll marry the guy you want me to. I’ll sign whatever contract you have. Just get me the best lawyer in the city and help me destroy my husband."