“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
Years earlier, I would have immediately defended myself.
Explained that I wasn’t cruel.
Tried to reassure him.
Made myself smaller so he wouldn’t feel attacked.
That day, I simply looked at him.
“No, Daniel.”
I paused.
“I’m just ending it.”
When his attorney demanded half my liquid assets, my lawyer opened a thick binder.
Our prenuptial agreement.
Daniel stared at it.
My inherited trust was protected.
So were my voting shares.
My premarital real estate.
And the capital growth directly connected to those assets.
The agreement also contained specific provisions involving financial fraud and concealed assets.
Daniel flipped through the pages.
His expression slowly changed.
“You planned this from the beginning.”
“No.”
I looked directly at him.
“I trusted you in the beginning.”
Then I added,
“I only started protecting myself after I discovered what you were doing.”
For once, Daniel had nothing to say.
Four months later, our divorce was finalized.
He didn’t receive the fortune he had expected.
But he also wasn’t left penniless.
