Divorced by My Cheating Husband,Then His Fatal Secret Came Out

The moment I opened the door, Gretchen's fist connected with my temple.

The world tilted. Stars exploded behind my eyes, and my legs buckled. I hit the floor hard, my skull ringing like a struck bell.

"Stubborn bitch." Gretchen stood over me, shaking out her hand. "All that begging, all those insults, and you still won't sign? Fine. You want to do this the hard way? Let's do this the hard way."

Lowell shot out from behind me like a small, furious missile. "Don't hurt my mom!" He threw himself between us, fists raised. "You're a bad person! You're a bad, bad person!"

He lunged at her, sinking his teeth into her wrist.

She backhanded him across the room.

"Lowell!"

My son crumpled against the wall. And Simon—Simon just stood there beside her, watching. His face might as well have been carved from stone.

I scrambled to my feet. Gretchen's heel caught me square in the ribs, and I went down again.

Three men pushed past them into the apartment. Rough hands pinned my shoulders to the floor, ground my cheek against the cold tile.

"Here's how this works." Gretchen crouched down, her perfume cloying and sweet. "You sign the divorce papers, or you don't walk out of this room. Your choice."

The front door banged open again. My mother stood in the doorway, grocery bags slipping from her fingers, oranges rolling across the threshold.

"Simon?" Her voice cracked. "What is this? How could you—she's your wife!"

"Mom." Simon's tone was patient, almost gentle. "Why don't you talk some sense into Jeanette? Convince her to sign. We can all part on good terms."

"Good terms?" My mother stepped in front of me, her thin body shaking with fury. "You're not even human. I never should have let my daughter marry you!"

Gretchen's palm cracked across my mother's face.

"Know your place, old woman." She examined her manicure, bored. "You're just as pathetic as your daughter. Keep running that mouth, and you can stay here with her."

The red handprint bloomed across my mother's cheek. Something in my chest cracked open.

"Jeanette, don't you dare." Mom's voice was fierce despite the tremor. "This is a civilized society—they can't actually kill us. That agreement is robbery. Don't sign it!"

Gretchen's lips curled. "Not signing? Fine." She snapped her fingers at the thugs. "Work on the old lady. Beat her until she's begging her daughter to sign."

The men moved toward my mother.

"I'll sign!"

The words tore out of me before I could stop them.

Gretchen tossed the papers at my face. "Should've just done that from the start."

My hands wouldn't stop shaking. The pen slipped twice before I managed to scrawl my name on the dotted line.

The moment I finished, identical smiles spread across their faces—Gretchen's triumphant, Simon's satisfied.

"Three days." Simon tucked the agreement into his jacket. "I want you out of this apartment in three days."

He grabbed Lowell's arm and yanked him toward the door. "Come on, son. Let's go get dinner."

Lowell thrashed against his grip. "No! I want to stay with Mom! I'm not going!"

"Daddy's going to get you a new mommy. Younger. Prettier." Simon's voice hardened. "Keep throwing tantrums, and Daddy's going to get angry."

His hand rose.

"Lowell!" I forced the words out, forced them to sound calm. "Listen to your father. I'll come get you in a few days, okay? I promise."

My son's eyes—so much older than eight—met mine as Simon dragged him out the door.

The moment they were gone, my mother crumpled.

"My poor girl." She pulled me into her arms, rocking us both. "Why does your life have to be so hard?"

I held her tight. "Mom." My voice was steady now. Cold. "The game's just getting started."

Before today, I'd only wanted what was fair. The assets I was owed. A clean break.

After today?

I wanted Simon Simmons and Gretchen Butler to burn.

One month later, I stood in the County Clerk's Office, waiting to finalize the divorce.

Simon wasn't alone. Gretchen clung to his arm like a designer accessory.

"Let me guess." I kept my voice flat. "Divorce certificate first, marriage license second?"

Gretchen lifted her chin. "Got a problem with that?"

I said nothing.

I signed where they told me to sign. Watched the clerk stamp the divorce decree. Then I stood in the corner and watched them pose for their wedding photo, Gretchen's smile sharp enough to cut glass.

They found me on their way out.

"I know you're not over this," Gretchen cooed, leaning into Simon's side. "But really, what choice did he have? With your... condition."

She tilted her head, mock sympathy dripping from every word.

"Simon never wanted to leave you, you know. But your illness—it's just too much to ask anyone to deal with."

Her smile widened.

"Honestly? If my partner got diagnosed with ALS, I'd want to die too."

Before she could finish, Simon collapsed.