My husband let his mistress walk into the hospital’s winter ball wearing my dead mother’s fur stole

The divorce proceedings were mercifully brief, though Everett tried his best to make them agonizing.

We sat in the heavily paneled conference room of Arthur’s law firm.

Everett looked ten years older. The sharp, handsome features that had once charmed me now looked hollow and desperate.

His suit was slightly wrinkled. He hadn't been able to afford his expensive dry cleaner.

His lawyer, a tired-looking man appointed by the court because Everett’s high-priced firm had dropped him for non-payment, shuffled his papers nervously.

"My client is asking for a reasonable settlement," his lawyer said. "Spousal support for a period of five years, and the retention of the vehicle."

Arthur laughed. It was a dry, booming sound that echoed off the mahogany walls.

"Counselor," Arthur said, wiping a tear of mirth from his eye. "Did you read the prenuptial agreement? Or the terms of the trust?"

"I did, but—"

"Then you know your client is entitled to exactly zero dollars and zero cents. In fact, if we enforce the promissory note fully, your client will be paying the Vale estate every penny he earns for the rest of his natural life."

Everett slammed his hands on the table.

"I gave you ten years of my life, Clara!" he yelled, his facade finally shattering. "I was a good husband! I made one mistake!"

"You made a mistake every time you slept with her," I said coldly. "You made a mistake when you went into my mother’s sanctuary. You made a mistake when you smiled at me at the winter ball and told me not to make a scene."

I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the polished wood.

"You didn't love me, Everett. You loved the pedestal I put you on. You just got angry when I realized I was the one holding it up."

He glared at me, his chest heaving. "I will ruin you in the press. I will tell them you’re a vindictive, crazy woman."

"Let me stop you right there," Arthur interrupted, sliding a thick folder across the table. "This is a dossier of your client’s malpractice claims, covered up by the hospital board out of respect for Clara’s family. If you go to the press, Everett, we release this. You will lose your medical license forever."

Everett stared at the folder like it was a live bomb.

He slowly sank back into his chair. The fight completely drained out of him.

He was a broken man.

"Sign the papers, Everett," I said quietly. "Sign them, and I will forgive the two million dollar debt. You can walk away with nothing, but you can walk away free."

He looked at his lawyer. His lawyer gave a grim, slight nod.

With shaking hands, Everett picked up the pen and signed his name.

When he slid the papers back across the table, he didn't look at me. He just stood up, pushed his chair in, and walked out of the room.

The heavy oak doors clicked shut behind him.

It was over.

I let out a long, shaky breath and looked at Arthur.