She Divorced Me to Marry Up—Now No One Wants Her

To Caroline and her best friend, I was average at best. In their eyes, I should have been on my knees, thanking the heavens for the privilege of breathing the same air as her.

It didn't matter that I treated her like a queen.

It didn't matter that I agreed to a childless marriage to suit her lifestyle.

None of it mattered.

My mother-in-law broke the heavy silence, slapping her thighs in frustration. "What are you standing there for? Apologize! Buy her a designer bag, get her a diamond necklace—just fix it!"

She glared at me, her voice rising. "You must have done something to set her off! My daughter wouldn't say such things unless you pushed her to it!"

I stayed silent, bitterness rising in my throat.

Caroline had made her intentions crystal clear, yet they still pinned the blame on me. They wanted me to bow, scrape, and beg forgiveness for a sin I hadn't committed.

Not a shred of dignity left for me.

Seeing I hadn't moved, my father-in-law kicked my shin under the table.

"Harrison, be a man," he lectured. "Swallowing your pride is part of marriage. Keeping the family together is what matters."

He leaned back, crossing his arms. "You won't find another wife as gentle and beautiful as my daughter. Let her go today, and the regret will eat you alive."

The relatives piled on like vultures.

"Hurry up and apologize! Once my cousin gets serious, you're finished!"

"Marrying into the Henson family was the greatest luck your pathetic ancestors ever gave you. You hit the jackpot and you're letting it slip away?"

"Even if it's not your fault, you admit it! That's the rule!"

I looked around the room. Not one person spoke up for me.

Every single one wanted me to kneel.

But why?

Because of Caroline's face? Because she thought she was a goddess walking among mortals? Because nothing I did was ever enough?

The questions burned through the fog in my mind. I rose slowly, my gaze locking onto Caroline.

"I agree to the divorce."

The room went dead silent.

"From this moment on, the bond between husband and wife is severed. You and I are strangers."

My voice wasn't loud, but it landed like a sledgehammer.

Caroline blinked, her mask of arrogance slipping. She hadn't expected me to agree so readily. She expected the dog to beg.

Before anyone could react, I grabbed the divorce agreement from the table, signed my name, and pressed my thumbprint onto the paper.

"Are you crazy?"

My in-laws leapt from the couch.

"Harrison!" my mother-in-law shrieked. "Are you even a man? Is it that hard to just apologize? She mentions divorce and you actually sign?"

"Tear that up right now!" my father-in-law roared, face turning purple. "Kneel and repent! List every mistake you've made until she forgives you!"

The hypocrisy was suffocating. Caroline demanded the divorce, yet they attacked me as if I were the villain.

The apple didn't fall far from the tree. Arrogance ran in this family's blood.

Caroline lunged forward and snatched the papers from my hand.

"Let's go. To the courthouse." Her voice was sharp. "If we're late, the clerks will be off work."

In such a rush to be rid of me.

A cold chill settled in my chest. My sincerity, my loyalty, five years of devotion—I'd fed it all to the dogs.

What was this marriage? Just a pile of wreckage.

I turned and followed Caroline toward the door.

A hand clamped down on my arm. My father-in-law yanked me back, eyes bulging with greed.

"Don't say I didn't warn you," he hissed. "You're in your thirties. Divorce my daughter, and you'll be worthless trash. Even stray dogs won't want you."

His grip tightened, voice dropping. "If you know what's good for you, get on your knees. I'll put in a word for you. And if that doesn't work—hand over your parents' pension fund. That might show Caroline you're sincere."

A glint of avarice flashed in his eyes. "Oh, and their old house? Transfer the deed to my daughter. Do that, and maybe she'll let you stay."

He'd hinted at this before.

Now, in the wreckage of my marriage, he finally showed his true colors—trying to strip my elderly parents of their retirement home and savings.