Chapter 4 - The Great Abandonment
The following weeks were a masterclass in systematic destruction,
as I stripped Spencer of his reputation,
his wealth,
and his pride.
Every day brought a new revelation of his infidelity and his financial crimes,
all leaked to the press by my father's PR team.
Paisley Dalton,
the woman who had mocked my "worn sleeves,"
was the first to disappear when the credit cards were declined.
I saw a paparazzi photo of her crying on a sidewalk,
surrounded by designer suitcases that she could no longer afford to fill.
She had been a leech,
and when the host began to bleed out,
she had no choice but to find a new victim.
Spencer was left alone in a small apartment he had rented with the last of his cash,
the mansion having been seized and returned to my name.
I decided to visit him one last time,
not out of mercy,
but to witness the finality of my victory.
The apartment smelled of stale beer and desperation,
a far cry from the Shaker Heights estate he had once used to belittle me.
He sat on a cheap sofa,
staring at a television that wasn't even turned on,
looking like a ghost of the man he used to be.
"Are you happy now?"
he asked,
his voice cracked and hollow,
not even looking up as I entered.
"Happiness has nothing to do with it,
Spencer,"
I replied,
standing by the door and refusing to sit down in his filth.
"This is about justice,
and the fact that you thought you could break a woman who was born to lead."
He looked at me then,
a flicker of the old Spencer appearing in his eyes for a brief moment.
"I loved you,
in my own way,"
he whispered,
a lie so transparent it was almost insulting.
"No,
you loved the idea of a wife who was beneath you,"
I countered,
"you loved the ego boost of having someone to look down on."
I reached into my bag and pulled out the finalized divorce papers,
tossing them onto the coffee table.
"Sign them,"
I ordered,
"and this will be the last time you ever see my face or hear my name."
He picked up the pen with shaking hands,
the reality of his situation finally sinking in as he scrawled his signature on the line.
He was no longer a CEO,
no longer a billionaire,
and no longer my husband.
He was just a man who had made the mistake of thinking silence was the same as weakness.
As I walked away,
I heard him start to sob,
a pathetic sound that didn't move me in the slightest.
I stepped out into the fresh air,
feeling the sun on my face,
knowing that the weight of him was finally gone from my soul.
The empire was mine,
May you like
the future was mine,
and the "invisible wife" was dead and buried.
