He Flipped the Table Over an Egg

I soon came out with a document and handed it to Eric. “Sign it. We’re getting a divorce.”

Eric stared.

At the divorce papers, he scoffed, “You want to divorce me? All these years, I’ve carried this family. You’re just a freeloader I keep at home. Call it what you want—at best you’re the lady of the house, at worst you’re a glorified nanny…”

“Yes. Divorce. I’ll leave with nothing.”

Eric’s treatment of me had only worsened over the years. I’d been living under constant cold violence. I’d wrestled with the idea of leaving for a long time. Today, I finally decided.

His expression shifted.

Whatever he’d planned to say to keep me in line died on his lips.

He hadn’t expected me to want nothing—to walk away with nothing.

For a moment, he went blank, speechless.

“What, you’re not taking the kids either? If we divorce, you won’t take a single one. You can’t even support yourself, let alone give them a decent life.”

I glanced at the twins who’d kept their heads down at dinner, as if none of this involved them. Then I gave a small, relieved smile.

“I’m not taking them. Not one.”

The laugh that came out of me was bitter.

Three months ago, after too many predawn mornings and late nights, my blood sugar crashed while I was cleaning and I fainted.

It was just me and the kids at home.

They watched me pass out and… kept sitting on the couch, watching TV. Their mother on the floor meant nothing to them.

I eventually came to and struggled to call 911.

When the EMTs arrived, the twins were complaining: “Seriously? You’re going to the hospital for something this small? What about our breakfast tomorrow?”

After I was discharged, I checked the home security camera footage. They hadn’t even shifted their eyes toward me. That was the day my heart died.

I’d valued them more than my own life. I was the fool.

My sacrifices meant nothing to them. To them I was just the frumpy woman spending Eric’s money.

“We don’t care if you go. You’re just the nanny Dad hired. We’ve got a new mom now.”

Hearing me say I wouldn’t take them, the twins finally slid off their chairs and spoke up—smug little faces full of indifference.

I knew they were trying to get back at me.

Even so, hearing those words from the two children I’d raised cut like a knife.

“Enough. Watch your mouths.”

The twins looked proud of themselves, clearly hoping to see pain on my face.

But this time Eric actually snapped at them, and they froze.

“Calm down before you say anything else.”

He looked at me. “Let’s talk this through.”

“No need. I’ve thought about it for a long time. And they’re not wrong—Olivia Carter is better for them, more suited to be their new mother.”

I ignored Eric’s rare attempt to back down and held out the divorce papers again.

His face turned a strange shade, as if he hadn’t expected me to say Olivia’s name.

“She’s just my secretary. We’re strictly coworkers. What nonsense are you spouting?”