“You’re being unreasonable,” he hissed.
“No,” I said, my voice perfectly level. “I’m being smart. You’re the one who always told me to plan ahead. ‘Protect your assets.’ Wasn’t that your phrase?”
He ran a hand through his hair, his eyes darting around the room as if looking for an escape. “You really want to do this? You want to drag this through the courts? You think that’s smart?”
“I think it’s necessary,” I replied. “You said you wanted to be fair. This is what ‘fair’ actually looks like.”
He didn’t speak for a long moment. He just stared at me, his mind clearly racing, trying to re-categorize me. I was no longer the fragile, defeated wife he could pity and dismiss. I had just become a problem he hadn’t anticipated.
“So what are you asking for?” he finally muttered. “Half the house?”
“I don’t want half,” I said. “I just want what I’m owed. What I put in. And maybe a little extra for all the time you’ve been lying to my face.”
His jaw tightened. He didn’t deny the lie. He didn’t even try. And in that heavy silence, I knew, for the first time, that he was genuinely afraid. He had counted on me to break. He never, ever expected me to sharpen.
It took six weeks for the divorce to be finalized. It was not amicable. It was not quiet. Brian stalled and dragged his feet at every turn, especially once he realized I wasn’t going to roll over. His lawyer, who I’m sure was one of the smug buddies he and his mother so admired, tried every dirty trick he could think of. But Monica was always one step ahead. She was sharper. She was smarter. And she was absolutely ruthless when she had to be. She had a file for every receipt, a bank statement for every transfer, and a copy of every document I had ever signed related to that house.
We didn’t ask for anything unreasonable. We didn’t go after more than what was fair. We just made damn sure that Brian wouldn’t be able to keep what wasn’t his. In the end, I walked away with a settlement that was more than respectable. More importantly, I got full legal recognition of my contributions—not just the financial ones, but the years of my life I had invested as an equal partner in that home. I had helped build something real, right before he decided to light a match and burn it all to the ground.
The last time I ever saw him was in that sterile, airless conference room in Monica’s building. Claire wasn’t with him, but I felt her presence anyway, like a quiet ghost waiting just outside the door, ready to move in the second my signature was dry. Brian didn’t look at me. Not one single time. When the last paper was signed, I stood up, put my pen back in my purse, and looked at him. “You always underestimated me, Brian.” He didn’t reply. He didn’t need to. I could see it on his face. It might have been regret. Or it might have just been pure, stunned disbelief that the neat little ending he had written for me wasn’t the one that came true…
