Chapter 4
"Get them all out of my sight,"
I commanded sharply,
gesturing toward the highly trained,
imposing security guards waiting patiently by the door.
The men in black immediately sprang into fast,
coordinated action,
moving with terrifying,
military-grade efficiency.
Two guards firmly grabbed Jameson by his upper arms,
hoisting him roughly off his feet,
ignoring his loud,
pathetic shouts of protest.
"You cannot do this to me,
Ruby,"
Jameson screamed frantically,
struggling hopelessly against the massive,
immovable men carrying him toward the front door.
"I am still legally your husband,
we are still married."
"Not for long,"
I replied smoothly,
picking up the thick manila envelope containing the divorce papers he had so arrogantly thrown at me earlier.
I ripped the thick envelope completely in half,
letting the torn,
useless pieces of paper flutter softly to the floor like tragic,
legal confetti.
"I filed for an absolute annulment based on massive financial fraud three weeks ago,"
I informed him loudly,
ensuring he heard every single,
devastating word before they dragged him outside.
"Your useless divorce petition is completely void,
and the judge has already frozen every single remaining asset you possess pending the criminal fraud investigation."
Meanwhile,
the third security guard approached the sobbing,
hysterical mistress still sitting on the coffee-stained floor.
"The robe,"
the guard ordered gruffly,
his voice deep,
intimidating,
and completely devoid of any sympathy.
Brooke scrambled frantically to her feet,
her hands shaking so badly she could barely untie the silk belt wrapped around her waist.
She slipped out of the expensive,
emerald-green silk,
standing in the middle of my kitchen wearing nothing but her cheap,
scandalous underwear.
I tossed a large,
black plastic trash bag directly at her face.
"Cut a hole in it and wear it,"
I suggested coldly,
"it suits your actual personality much better than my designer silk ever did."
Brooke sobbed louder,
humiliated beyond absolute belief,
as she hastily tore a hole in the bottom of the ugly garbage bag and slipped it over her head.
She ran out the front door,
crying and screaming as the bright,
flashing cameras of the private investigators I hired captured her pathetic,
trash-bag-wearing exit.
The final guard escorted the weeping,
broken parents out into the cold morning air,
carrying the two small,
sad U-Haul boxes they had packed.
They had arrived expecting to casually,
cruelly throw me out of my own home,
only to be brutally,
permanently thrown out of their own comfortable lives forever.
I stood completely alone in the sudden,
peaceful quiet of my massive,
luxurious kitchen,
taking a slow,
May you like
deep breath of sweet,
absolute victory.
