Cash In and Cut Me Loose

Cassandra's expression softened for Andrew, but her anger at me intensified.

"Apologize to Andrew," she demanded. "Or we're through."

I met her gaze, my heart sinking like a stone in a well. For five years, I'd practically lived at the firm, taking all kinds of cases. Top firms across the country tossed me offers, but I shut them down without a second thought.

I did it all for her, and in return, she was ready to torch our marriage over a weaselly intern who thrived on drama.

Maybe I'd been chasing a ghost from the start, a love that was never mine to hold. My heart went numb, like a switch had flipped.

"Fine, through is through," I said.

...

Cassandra froze, then pointed a finger at my nose. "You've got someone on the side, don't you? That's why you snitched, and now you're pushing for a divorce. Let me make one thing crystal clear: you screwed up, so you'll walk away with nothing."

Her words clicked like a lock snapping shut. She'd been plotting to ditch me for a while. But with my heart already in the grave, her threats slid off me like rain on a windshield.

I nodded, calm as a summer lake. "Alright. I'll send you the divorce agreement tonight."

I scooped up my box of belongings and walked out, heading not to our shared home but to the apartment I'd bought before we married.

That night, my phone pinged with a message from Andrew. A photo loaded, showing him and Cassandra in that Maybach. Her blouse was half-buttoned, her cheeks flushed like she'd just run a marathon. His neck was a canvas of hickeys, bold as a neon sign.

I let out a dry laugh, then posted the photo to my social media, captioned, [Divorce party. Cheers to a new chapter.]

Then I collapsed onto the bed, letting sleep swallow me whole.

The next morning, pounding on my door jolted me awake. Groggy, I stumbled over and opened it, only to catch a stinging slap across the face. The pain snapped me awake, sharp and bright.

I glared at Cassandra. "What's wrong with you? It's barely dawn."

She shook with rage. "You disgusting, low-life creep! Why did you post that photo? Because of your jealous stunt, Andrew nearly killed himself last night. You'd better post a retraction right now, admit you photoshopped that picture, and beg for his forgiveness."

I looked at her twisted face, snorting, "That photo? He sent it to me. I figured he wanted me to spread the word about your steamy little affair. If nothing filthy is going on, why are you losing your mind over it?"

She raised her hand again, but I caught her wrist and flung it aside. "That's strike three. Don't test me."

She glared, her eyes blazing with hate. "Is there no depth you won't sink to? Andrew and I were dining with clients last night, and I drank too much. He sent you that photo so you wouldn't worry. But you're eaten up with spite, trying to ruin our reputation and push Andrew to the edge. Why don't you drop dead?"

Her tirade disgusted me to no end. I slammed the door in her face, blocked every number she'd ever used, and booked a flight out of the city.