After years of enduring a marriage defined by Mike’s obsession with wealth and appearances, I found myself quietly agreeing to give him everything in the divorce. He walked away gloating over his “win,” while I kept a calm smile, knowing that my real plan was just beginning to unfold.
I left the lawyer’s office, my face arranged into a defeated expression, my shoulders slumped to sell the part. The rain poured down in sheets, perfectly matching the bleak mood I wanted to project. But when I caught my reflection in a passing window, a faint smile crept across my face. My mind was already dancing ahead to what would come next.
Only a few weeks earlier, I’d been in a marriage that felt like a constant performance, where Mike’s obsession with the “finer things” was the whole plot. To him, life was about showing off the latest luxury car, flaunting a mansion that dwarfed our neighbors, and dressing in clothes meant to impress everyone but us. I’d played the part of his adoring wife long enough, but eventually, the cracks in our marriage became obvious to everyone.
As the arguments became more frequent and his ego more insufferable, I knew it was time. So when Mike demanded the house, the car, and our shared savings in the divorce, I only shrugged and agreed. My lawyer raised an eyebrow at my willingness, but I gave her a knowing smile. Mike could have the trophies; I was setting the stage for something else.
The morning after our papers were signed, Mike’s call came in right on schedule. His tone was a strange mix of confusion and anger.
“What did you do?” he barked.
“Oh, Mike,” I answered calmly, my smile breaking into a full grin. “Enjoying the perks of ‘winning’?”
