Ripping Off the Apron

In the following days, I started sorting out the division of assets.

According to New York state marriage laws, I was entitled to half of Finn’s assets acquired after the marriage.

But I only took the cash.

I gave up the mansion, the sports cars, the stocks – everything else.

Then I donated all the money to a children's cancer foundation.

Finn didn’t show up once.

Of course not. He was too busy playing knight-in-shining-suit for Elena.

So imagine my surprise when Elena herself asked to meet me—at a café near Central Park, no less.

"Victoria, can we talk?" Her tone was gentle, but I could hear she was testing the waters.

We sat across from each other, and Elena got straight to the point. "Are things okay between you and Finn?"

I took a sip of my latte and smiled faintly. "I'm moving out of New York tomorrow."

Hearing that, a flicker of poorly hidden joy crossed Elena's face.

"You're leaving? Is it because of me? Actually, Finn and I are ancient history—"

"Elena," I cut her off, looking her straight in the eye. "Even if you've moved on, he hasn't. He has all your performance videos on his phone. When he's drunk, your name is the only one he calls out. Every year on your birthday, he drinks himself into a stupor alone, until morning."

I put down my coffee cup, my voice frighteningly calm. "No matter how hard I try, I can't get into his heart. So, why keep up this ridiculous act?"

Elena was stunned. It took her a moment to process. "You... you're really getting a divorce?"

"It's all finalized. The cooling-off period ends tomorrow. From then on, Finn’s life has nothing to do with me."

I stood up to leave.

That should’ve been the end.

But fate had one more humiliation for me.

Just as I pushed the door open, a group of aggressive animal rights activists rushed towards us—they were holding signs saying "Elena Kills Innocent Animals," and they were extremely agitated.

My face changed.

I quickly locked the door again.

We were trapped in the café.

Elena frantically called Finn.

Ten minutes later, he rushed in, his suit all rumpled, looking like he’d run all the way.

Seeing Elena, he immediately said, "The only way is for you two to switch clothes. I'll take Elena out the back."

Elena turned to me, her eyes full of silent pleading.

I gave a bitter smile and took off my jacket, handing it to her.

Finn didn't even glance at me as he shielded Elena and left.

Seconds later, the protesters realized they’d been duped. They stormed in.

"That's not Elena! She's a fake!"

The angry crowd surrounded me.

Someone yanked my hair. Someone else threw hot coffee. I felt a boot slam into my ribs.

My body curled in on itself, trying to shield what I could.

It wasn’t until someone shouted “Cops are coming!” that they fled, leaving me bruised and burned on the floor.

Only a trembling waiter helped me up.

I dragged myself to the hospital, got my injuries treated, then went home to finish packing.

I was on the phone with the airline, confirming my flight, when Finn came back.

He heard me say "tomorrow morning's flight" and casually asked, "Taking a little trip?"

"Seeing some friends," I replied calmly.

He nodded. "Good, you should get out for a bit."

Then his eyes landed on my bandaged arm. “Damn, they really went after you. Sorry—I didn’t think it would get that bad.”

You didn't think?

Or you just didn't care?

I smiled faintly and didn't answer.

He walked away and disappeared into his study—probably texting Elena again, the door clicking shut like punctuation on our story.

Watching that door slowly close, I nodded to myself.

It was time.

The next morning, I got my divorce certificate.

When I got home, I ran into Finn, who was just about to leave.

"I need to tell you something," I said.

Finn glanced at his watch. "I don't have time right now, something urgent came up. Can we talk tonight?"

"Let's talk now," I said, pulling the divorce certificate from my bag and handing it to him.

He took it without looking, casually tossing it into a hall drawer. "Aren’t you going on vacation or something? No rush to come back. Enjoy yourself."

No rush?

There would be no coming back.

I dragged my suitcase out the mansion's front door.

In my heart, I said goodbye to him one last time.

Goodbye to these three demeaning years.

Goodbye, Finn.

The next time we meet, I won't be your wife.

I'll be your arch-enemy, Vicky.