Chapter 1

Derek pushed the divorce agreement in front of me.

I glanced at it.

The house goes to him, the car goes to him, savings split fifty-fifty.

“Fifty-fifty?” I laughed. “There’s only thirty thousand in the account. You want to take fifteen thousand?”

“This is just a fake divorce.” He frowned. “I need to guarantee a loan for a friend’s startup. I can’t have any debts under my name.”

I stared into his eyes.

He looked away.

“Fine.” I picked up the pen.

He visibly relaxed.

He had no idea — I’d been waiting three years for this day.

On the day we signed, Derek took half a day off work.

Outside the courthouse, he even put on a show.

“Sarah, I’m sorry to put you through this.” He held my hand. “Three months at most. Once I sort out the situation, we’ll remarry.”

I nodded.

“I’ve got it all arranged. You’ll move in with my mom for now.”

“No need.” I pulled my hand back. “I’ll stay at my parents’ place.”

He paused. “Your parents’ place? That’s so inconvenient…”

“We’re divorced now. How can I still live with you?”

He opened his mouth but said nothing.

When we were processing the paperwork, the clerk asked if we’d thought this through.

Derek rushed to answer: “We’ve thought it through.”

I echoed: “We’ve thought it through.”

He relaxed again.

Outside the courthouse, he offered to drive me to my parents’ house.

“No need.” I hailed a cab. “You go handle your business.”

After the car had gone about fifty meters, I saw him through the rearview mirror, standing in place on his phone.

His expression was relaxed, even smiling.

I looked away and sent a text to my best friend, Madison.

“It’s done.”

She replied instantly: “What’s next?”

“Wait.”

I leaned back in my seat and closed my eyes.

Five years ago when I married Derek, I thought I was marrying for love.

He was three years older than me, working as a sales manager at a private company, making just over twenty thousand a month.

I was an elementary school teacher making eight thousand, later raised to twelve thousand.

When we got married, we bought an apartment on the east side of town.

The down payment was eighty thousand. I paid fifty thousand — five years of savings plus twenty thousand from my parents.

He paid thirty thousand.

The monthly mortgage was eight thousand. I covered five thousand, he paid three.

After marriage, I thought we were building our future together.

He thought I was an ATM.

The turning point came three years ago.

That day I came home early and heard him on the balcony on the phone.

“…Don’t worry, just wait a bit longer. When the time’s right, I’ll dump her…”

I stood in the living room, frozen.

He hung up and turned around. When he saw me, his expression changed for a split second before quickly returning to normal.

“Who were you talking to?” I asked.

“A client. A difficult client.” He walked over with a smile. “Why are you home so early?”

I looked into his eyes and said nothing.

From that day on, I started paying attention.

I opened a bank account he didn’t know about and deposited two thousand every month.

I quietly verified the details on our property deed.

I checked his credit report and looked into his assets.

The more I investigated, the colder my heart became.

In five years of marriage, he’d registered a company under his name with fifty thousand in capital.

I didn’t know a single thing about it.

And our “joint savings” account always maintained a balance hovering around thirty thousand.

Where did the money go?

I didn’t ask.

If I asked, he’d have a hundred excuses.

I just waited.

Waited for him to slip up on his own.

Now, he’d finally made his move.

A fake divorce.

His reason: guaranteeing a friend’s loan.

Laughable.

That “friend” he wanted to help — I’d already investigated her.

It was a woman.