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Out Of Your League, Dear Ex-Husband Novel Cover

Out Of Your League, Dear Ex-Husband

For three years, she sacrificed her dreams to be the hidden, unpaid maid behind NHL star Armani Tillman. On their third anniversary, he demands a divorce on live TV, sending a lawyer with an agreement that leaves her with nothing but a gag order. Then she discovers him in their bed with her best friend, Ima. When the betrayal lands her in the ER, they mock her as pathetic. But they have no idea she is Westwind, the legendary anonymous graphic novelist Armani's biggest sponsor desperately needs. Tearing up the insulting agreement, she hires Chicago's most ruthless lawyer. This time, she's taking everything.
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Chapter 3

Carleen Johnson POV:

Kimber's voice on the other end of the line was a warm current in the cold ocean I was drowning in. She was my rock, always there when I needed her most.

After hanging up, I moved quickly. I packed my few personal belongings—the portfolio, my two phones. I didn't touch the designer clothes or handbags Armani had bought for me. They weren't mine.

I took a cab back to the Gold Coast townhome that had been my home, and my gilded cage, for three years.

I didn't use the front door. I used the back entrance, with a code only I knew. I wanted to avoid any confrontation with the Tillmans until I had what was mine.

The house was silent. Cynthia and Kylie were probably out celebrating their victory.

I went straight to the second floor, to my bedroom. To our bedroom. The lingering scent of Armani's cologne made my stomach turn.

In the walk-in closet, I ignored the rows of clothes he had picked out for me, the uniform of "Mrs. Tillman." My eyes landed on a suitcase tucked away in the back.

Inside were my own clothes. The jeans, t-shirts, and hoodies from before. They represented the free Carleen I had forgotten.

I quickly packed them, along with the only thing my mother had left me—a thick, leather-bound diary.

As I was about to leave, my cat, Smoky, a beautiful Russian Blue who had been my only quiet companion in this massive house, padded over and rubbed his head against my ankle.

I knelt and hugged him, my eyes burning. Smoky was my family. I couldn't leave him in this cold house. I found his carrier and coaxed him inside.

Just as I was carrying the suitcase and the cat carrier downstairs, I heard a key in the front door. Cynthia and Kylie were back.

"What are you doing here?" Kylie's shrill voice cut through the silence. She saw the luggage in my hand, her face twisting into a sneer. "What, my brother dumps you and now you're trying to steal things?"

I ignored her and walked toward the door.

Cynthia blocked my path, her arms crossed. "Carleen, Armani told me everything. You should know your place. Take the money and leave quietly."

I stopped and looked at the woman I had called "Mom" for three years. "Mrs. Tillman," I said calmly, "I think you're mistaken. First, I'm not 'leaving,' I'm 'moving out.' Second, I won't be taking a single penny of his 'severance' money."

I paused, letting them absorb my words. "Because this house, and half of Armani Tillman's assets, belong to me as well. My lawyer will be in contact."

Kylie shrieked. "You're crazy! On what grounds?""On the grounds that I am his legal wife of three years," I said, each word a deliberate stone. I pushed past Cynthia and walked out the door without looking back.

Their curses were cut off as I closed the door behind me. I stood under the Chicago sun and took a deep breath of free air.

The car I had called was waiting. I put Smoky and my suitcase in the back and got in.

I sent Kimber a text: "I'm out."

My phone buzzed almost instantly. It was a call from Fiona Reynolds' law firm. The best divorce attorney in Chicago, recommended by Kimber.

I answered. A crisp, confident voice said, "Ms. Johnson, this is Fiona Reynolds. I've received your information. I'm ready to start whenever you are."

We scheduled a meeting for the next day. Hanging up, the future felt clear for the first time.

The car pulled up to an old apartment building near Wicker Park, where Kimber lived.

Kimber was already running down the stairs. She threw her arms around me in a huge hug and helped me with my bags.

"Welcome home, Carleen," she said, her eyes red but her smile wide.

Her apartment was small, even a little cramped, but it was filled with the warmth of a real home. Band posters on the walls, the smell of coffee in the air.

I let Smoky out of his carrier, and he began to curiously explore his new territory.

Kimber handed me a mug of hot water and sat across from me, her expression serious. "Now, tell me everything."

I looked into her concerned eyes and told her everything that had happened. Armani's humiliation, the divorce, all of it.

Kimber's face grew dark with rage. She slammed her fist on the sofa. "That bastard! And his whole family of leeches!"

After her anger subsided, she took my hand. "But you did the right thing, Carleen. We don't want anything from them. But we're not leaving a single thing that's ours behind."

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