After years trapped in a toxic marriage fueled by Mike’s obsession with material success, Nicole finally shocked him by agreeing to hand over everything in their divorce.
Mike, gloating in what he thought was his triumph, had no idea Nicole had set him up for a twist he’d never see coming.
As I stepped out of the lawyer’s office, the rain came down in sheets, perfectly matching the picture of defeat I wanted to project. My expression was blank, my shoulders slumped, like a woman who had just lost everything. But inside, I was buzzing with anticipation. This was just the beginning.
The door to the elevator was cold under my hand as I stepped inside, grateful to be alone. The instant the doors slid shut, a small giggle escaped me, bubbling up from deep within.
I tried to hold it back, but soon it turned into full-blown laughter, echoing through the empty elevator. If anyone had seen me, they might have thought I’d gone mad from the stress of it all. But no, this was far from madness. It was victory.
Mike had no idea what was coming.
He could have the house, the car, the savings—I didn’t need any of it. Those things meant everything to him, but to me, they were just pieces in a larger game. And I was about to win.
Weeks earlier, I had started setting my plan in motion. Mike and I hadn’t been happy in years, but he was too focused on his image to care. He wanted to look like a success, no matter how empty our life had become. I played along, biding my time, knowing he’d eventually demand a divorce.
The night it happened was almost anticlimactic. Mike barged into the house, his face red with frustration. “We need to talk,” he barked, throwing his keys down with a loud clatter.
I barely looked up from my phone. “Go ahead.”
“I want a divorce,” he spat, waiting for my reaction.
I paused for a moment, pretending to be surprised, but inside I was grinning. “Okay,” I said calmly.
Mike blinked, thrown off by how easily I agreed. “That’s it? No fight?”
“Nope.” I smiled inwardly as his shock turned to suspicion. He wanted me to beg, to cry, but I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction.
The negotiations were laughable. Mike, smug as ever, sat across from me at the lawyer’s office, rattling off his demands like a kid writing a letter to Santa. “I’ll take the house, the car, the bank accounts, and of course, the investments.”
“Fine,” I said, not even pretending to care.
His lawyer hesitated. “You’re sure about this, Mrs. Wells?”
“Yes. He can have it all,” I replied.
Mike looked like he’d just won the lottery. “Great! I expect you to be out by tonight.”
“Absolutely,” I said, smiling to myself as I stood up to leave. He had no clue.
That evening, I packed my things, taking only what I truly cared about. The house was never mine—it was just another one of Mike’s trophies, a display of his status. As I finished taping up the last box, I pulled out my phone and made the call.
“Mom? It’s time.”
My mother, Barbara, had never liked Mike. From the day I introduced them, she saw right through his charm. But she had played her role perfectly, just like I had. When we bought the house, she had fronted a large part of the down payment, under one condition: a clause that allowed her to live there whenever she wanted, indefinitely. Mike, in his greed, had never bothered to read the fine print.
The next morning, as I settled into my new apartment, my phone rang. It was Mike, his voice shaking with fury. “You set me up!”
I put him on speaker, grinning. “What are you talking about?”
“Your mother is here! She’s in my house, bossing me around, acting like she owns the place!”
I laughed quietly. “Oh, Mike. You forgot about the contract, didn’t you? The one that says my mother can live there whenever she pleases, for as long as she wants.”
Silence.
“You can’t be serious! I’ll fight this! I’ll—”
In the background, I could hear my mother’s voice, calm but firm. “Michael, put those dishes away! And while you’re at it, we’re out of groceries—you’ll need to go shopping.”
I couldn’t help but laugh as Mike sputtered in disbelief. “This isn’t over!” he yelled, but I knew it was.
I hung up the phone, feeling lighter than I had in years. Let him have the house. Let him deal with my mother’s constant presence, her endless demands. I had my freedom, and that was worth more than anything Mike could ever take from me.
Victory had never felt so sweet.