Chapter 3
The next morning arrived with a crisp,
golden sunlight filtering through my bedroom window,
and I woke up feeling energized.
I dressed in a simple,
unassuming beige sweater and a pair of dark jeans,
wanting to look exactly like the defeated woman Scott expected.
I drove over to our old suburban home,
the beautiful two-story house that we had purchased together,
though his name was the only one on the deed.
As I pulled into the long driveway,
I noticed a sleek,
brand-new sports car parked prominently in front,
its shiny red paint practically screaming with vanity.
Scott had already spent money he didn't technically possess,
borrowing against his expected inheritance to fund a lavish lifestyle,
and a cold smirk touched my lips at the sight.
I stepped out of my car,
carrying a large,
empty cardboard box in my hands,
and I walked slowly up the paved stone pathway.
Before I could even reach for my house key,
the front door swung open with a sharp,
aggressive jerk,
and Scott stood there looking down at me with utter disdain.
He was wearing an expensive designer watch,
one that I had never seen before in my life,
and he held a steaming cup of premium espresso.
"You're late,"
he barked coldly,
checking his glittering timepiece with an exaggerated flick of his wrist,
"I told you to be here early."
"I had some traffic on the main highway,"
I lied smoothly,
keeping my eyes lowered to the ground,
feigning submissiveness.
"Whatever,"
he scoffed,
stepping aside to let me enter the foyer,
"just get your things and get out as fast as possible."
"Kayla is upstairs resting,"
he whispered loudly,
his voice filled with an annoying,
protective tenderness for his mistress,
"and she doesn't need to be disturbed by your presence."
"She is very sensitive right now,"
he added,
glaring at me as if I were a common criminal,
"given her delicate condition with our child."
I swallowed hard,
forcing my hands to tremble slightly as I held the cardboard box,
pretending that his words cut deep into my soul.
"I won't make any noise,"
I promised in a quiet,
shaky voice,
"I will just go to the study and grab my books."
"Good,"
he said,
turning his back on me to walk into the kitchen,
"and don't touch anything else in this house."
"Everything in here belongs to me now,"
he shouted over his shoulder,
his arrogance radiating through the empty hallway,
"you are leaving with exactly what you brought into this marriage."
I walked toward the study,
my heart beating steadily not with fear,
but with a rising,
exhilarating sense of anticipation.
The study was a mess,
with half-packed boxes and expensive new decor items scattered everywhere,
proving that Kayla was already claiming her territory.
I found my stack of old textbooks on the bottom shelf,
and as I began to place them into my box,
my eyes scanned the room carefully.
On the mahogany desk,
sitting right next to Scott's expensive laptop,
was a stack of freshly printed legal documents.
I walked over quietly,
my footsteps making absolutely no sound on the thick plush carpet,
and I looked down at the papers.
It was the preliminary divorce agreement,
drafted by his high-priced attorney,
and it was filled with unfair terms.
According to the document,
I would receive zero spousal support,
no share of the house,
and no claim to any of his future assets.
He had even included a clause stating that I waived all rights,
past,
present,
and future,
to any family inheritances or trust funds.
He thought he was being incredibly clever,
insulating his wealth from me completely,
unaware that this very clause was irrelevant.
The inheritance wasn't coming to him anyway,
because his own actions had already forfeited the money,
and his lawyer's clever wording would protect no one but me.
I heard a soft rustling sound from the doorway,
and I immediately spun around,
dropping a book into my box to look busy.
Kayla stood there,
leaning against the doorframe with a smug smile,
her hand resting conspicuously on her barely visible pregnant belly.
She was wearing one of my old silk robes,
the one Scott had bought for me on our first anniversary,
and the sight made me want to laugh at her pathetic pettiness.
"Oh,"
she purred,
her voice dripping with false sweetness,
"I didn't realize you were still here,
Avery."
"I was just clearing out the last of my things,"
I replied,
keeping my facial expression completely neutral and sad.
"Make sure you don't accidentally take anything valuable,"
she warned,
walking into the room with an air of ownership,
"Scott said we need to clear out all the old energy from this house."
"We want a fresh start for our baby,"
she added,
running her manicured fingers along the edge of the desk,
"and your presence is just a reminder of the past."
"Don't worry,"
I said,
picking up my heavy box of books and smiling weakly at her,
"I am leaving right now,
and I wish you both exactly what you deserve."
She didn't catch the hidden meaning behind my words,
instead just offering a triumphant,
dismissive chuckle as I walked past her.
I carried my box out to the front door,
where Scott was waiting with his arms crossed over his chest.
"Is that everything?"
he demanded,
impatient to close the door on our shared history.
"Yes,"
I murmured,
stepping out onto the porch,
"this is everything I need."
"See you in court on Friday,"
he called out,
his voice echoing with a cruel,
victorious finality,
"don't be late for that either."
"I wouldn't miss it for the world,"
May you like
I whispered under my breath as I walked to my car,
knowing that Friday would be the day his entire reality crumbled into dust.
