Brad Harrington's executive assistant was having another depressive episode.

He pulled out the divorce papers.

"It's just paperwork," he said. "Once she's stable, we'll remarry immediately."

I picked up the documents, skimmed a few pages, then looked up at him.

"I'm walking away with nothing?"

His face twisted with impatience.

"It's a fake divorce. Are you really going to nickel-and-dime this?"

I just smiled and said nothing. Quietly, I signed my name.

What he didn't know — I had been waiting for this day for a very long time.

###CONTENT

####CHAPTER-NAME:

After watching me sign the divorce papers, Brad Harrington let out a visible sigh of relief. A smile spread across his face—one I hadn't seen in a long time.

He promised, "Babe, don't worry. It's just a formality. I wouldn't even be doing this if she weren't my mom's distant relative."

I nodded and said, "I understand," with a small smile.

Then I turned and went to pack my things.

He froze. "What are you doing? No one said you have to move out. Besides, you don't even have anywhere to go."

I kept packing, then answered flatly, "If we're going to fake it, we might as well go all the way. Otherwise, what if Vanessa finds out and her condition gets worse?"

His expression stiffened for a second. Then he recovered. "Yeah… you're right."

He opened his mouth to say something else, but his phone rang—that special ringtone.

"Work stuff. Let me take this. I'll drive you later."

He walked out to the balcony. The moment he answered the call, his entire face softened.

It was the same look he used to give me when we were dating.

By the time I finished packing, he was still out there, all helpless and affectionate with whoever was on the phone.

I left quietly. I sent a text to my best friend.

Sitting on the curb waiting for her, I thought about Brad and me.

Four years of college romance. Six years of marriage.

I really thought I'd found the one.

For him, I left my stable government job and moved over a thousand miles from home.

My family and friends all thought I'd lost my mind.

He cried when I made that choice. He swore up and down that he'd never let me lose.

We worked hard for years. I poured in every penny I had—my savings, my wedding money—and we bought that house together.

Then he said his company restructured and his salary got cut. So I paid five thousand of our seven-thousand-dollar mortgage every month.

I told myself that's what marriage is—supporting each other. No need to keep score.

Until one night. I got the random idea to surprise him at work with a gift.

That's when I heard his friend joking around, "Damn, Brad, you've got it all! Promotion, raise, that huge bonus from the last project—you must be pulling in six figures now. Wife at home, mistress on the side. Living the dream, man."

I felt like I'd been hit over the head with a bat. Everything went fuzzy. I wanted so badly to believe it was just a joke.

But then I heard Brad's voice from around the corner.

"Hey, that's what being a man is about, right? You'll get there someday. Just keep your mouth shut, though—if my wife finds out, she'll lose her mind."

I don't remember how I left. The next thing I knew, I was standing in the middle of the street, sobbing.

That was the day I started paying attention.

And suddenly, every detail I'd missed came into focus.

He'd never cared about fitness before—now, he was at the gym all the time. The perfume on his collar after every "business dinner." The constant "work trips."

One night, while he was asleep, I started digging into his finances.

With every discovery, my heart sank further.

I'd been delaying everything I wanted to buy. Skipping new clothes every season. Losing sleep over the mortgage.

Meanwhile, he was dropping thousands on gifts for his mistress. Racking up five-figure tabs at private lounges.

He thought I was slow. Naive. So he got bolder.

And now, his executive assistant is pregnant with his child.

So he came up with this pathetic, ridiculous excuse to kick me out of my own life.

But here's the truth he doesn't know.

I've been waiting for this day for a very long time, too.

####CHAPTER-NAME:

My best friend took me back to her place. Her face was full of worry.

"What are you going to do now?" she asked.

I already had a plan.

"I'm going to make them crumble from the inside."

The next day, I showed up at the spa where Vanessa Hughes—Brad's executive assistant—loved to go.

Lucky me. She was there.

The moment she saw me, she lightly touched her belly. Her eyes were practically glowing with smugness.

Then she opened her mouth.

"Well, well… look who's here. It's Mrs. Harrington," she said, dripping with fake sweetness.

She covered her mouth with a theatrical little giggle.

"Oh, but I guess I can't call you that anymore. You and Brad are divorced. And you walked away with nothing. Can you even afford this place? You're not going to pull a dine-and-dash, are you?"

I gave her a calm, small smile.

"You don't need to worry about my marriage," I said. "Anyway, aren't you supposed to have depression? You don't seem depressed at all."

Her smile flickered.

I glanced at her belly. "That's starting to show. I wonder where the father is? Brad said he wanted to look after you out of family obligation. Is this baby going to be born without a dad?"

That got to her.

Her face twisted with anger. She lunged at me, but her friend grabbed her arm and held her back.

Perfect.

I kept going.

"And by the way, how do you know I walked away with nothing? Brad and I have years together. Do you really think he'd leave me with nothing?"

I let the words hang.

Then I paused. Deliberately.

My eyes drifted down to her stomach. Then back up to her face.

"Anyway," I said sweetly, "take good care of that baby. All of us will."

Vanessa stood there frozen. Confused. Suspicion flickering across her face.

Exactly what I wanted.

Here's the thing about someone as selfish as Brad—he'd never put his real assets in anyone else's hands. So Vanessa has no idea how much he's actually worth. She can't be sure if I'm lying or telling the truth.

And I know Brad told her I couldn't have children. That's why she's so confident now that she's pregnant.

But now… I've planted the seed. With my little hints, she's going to start wondering: Is Brad just using me for the baby?

The moment that doubt takes root, cracks will form between them.

And the more cracks, the more mistakes they make.

The more evidence I can gather.

####CHAPTER-NAME:

Sure enough, not long after I got home, my phone rang.

It was Brad.

And he was furious.

"Lauren, I had no idea you were this vicious," he shouted. "What the hell did you say to Vanessa? She won't stop crying. She won't even talk to me."

I put on my most innocent voice.

"I have no idea what you're talking about. We ran into each other at the spa. We had a perfectly nice conversation. I did notice she's pregnant, though. That's disgusting—who would get a depressed woman pregnant?

"No wonder she's having another episode. She must be with some real scumbag. I feel bad for that baby."

Brad went silent for a second. Then his voice turned ice cold.

"That's none of your business. But after today, I need to rethink things between us. You have zero sympathy for a pregnant woman. I'm honestly disgusted. Maybe we should reconsider whether remarriage is even a good idea."

I almost laughed at the sheer audacity.

But I kept up the act.

"Please, Brad, no! You know I have nothing without you. You can't abandon me. You're right—it was my fault. I'll apologize to Vanessa. I'll do whatever it takes."

His tone shifted. Now, he sounded like he was doing me a favor.

"If you're really sorry, Vanessa isn't unreasonable. You know that jewelry set we bought for our wedding? The gold pieces? She's always been jealous of it. Give them to her as an apology. I'll put in a good word for you. Then we can forget this ever happened."

I couldn't believe it.

After everything we'd been through. Years of marriage. And he was still trying to squeeze the last drops out of me.

In his mind, my trust—my unconditional, foolish trust—was never love.

It was a weapon. Something for him to use. To twist. To stomp on.

When I first found out about the affair and the money he'd been hiding, I kept asking myself, 'When did he turn so rotten? How did I not see it sooner?'

Now I know the truth.

He was always rotten. I was just too blinded by what I thought was love to ever really see him.

My body shook. I was livid.

But my voice stayed steady.

"Okay, Brad. Whatever you say. I'll bring it over tomorrow."

Because the show must go on.

####CHAPTER-NAME: