After enduring a marriage dominated by Mike’s obsession with material wealth, Nicole made a startling decision during their divorce proceedings. Mike seemed to win it all — the house, the car, and the money. Yet, her laughter hinted at a hidden plan. As Mike celebrated his apparent triumph, Nicole was poised to make her decisive move.
Leaving the lawyer’s office, I looked every bit like the defeated ex-wife. The gloomy weather mimicked my supposed mood — which was precisely what I wanted others to think.
Yet, on the inside, I felt exhilaratingly alive. My fingers gripped the cold door handle as I entered the elevator. I was blissfully alone.
The elevator’s soft ding as it closed prompted an unintended giggle. It was the kind of joyous outburst that surprises you, bubbling up unplanned like champagne.
I kept laughing, alone in that elevator, gratitude swelling as everything fell into place.
Let Mike have the house, car, and savings — it was all part of my scheme. He thought he had won, but he had no idea of the real twist ahead.
As the elevator jerked to a stop, I composed myself, catching a glimpse of my reflection: disheveled hair, tired eyes, but a victorious smile. I didn’t even care. It was all about to get interesting.
A few weeks earlier…
For years, our relationship had soured, but more so because Mike was caught up in a world of luxury and show. Expensive cars, an enormous house, designer wear — they were all trophies to him.
I’d grown tired of playing my role in his charade. The fights became more frequent, and I knew we were nearing our end.
Divorce didn’t scare me. Knowing Mike as I did, his desire to win, regardless of what or whom, made it clear how things would progress.
One Tuesday, Mike came home late again. I was idly scrolling through my phone. He walked in, clearly agitated after a bad day at work, which meant I was the easiest target.
“We need to talk,” he announced, his frustration evident. “I want a divorce,” he declared.
Finally, the moment I’d been ready for. I nodded, keeping my expression neutral.
His shock was evident when I offered no resistance. He was ready for a fight I had no intention of giving him.
In the divorce discussions, Mike listed his demands: the house, the money, everything. His smugness was palpable — he expected me to crumble.
“Fine,” was all I said, nodding when my lawyer eyed me for confirmation.
Mike’s surprise was palpable. He was baffled. I assured him everything else, minus my personal stuff, was his.
He grinned, believing he’d triumphed. Little did he know of the real arrangement underway.
Returning to the elevator, I texted a quick note: Heading to the house to pack. I’ll let you know when to proceed. The real plan was in motion.
Packing was a breeze; I only took what mattered to me — things devoid of Mike’s superficial world. That house had never been mine.
Making the call, my mother’s firm voice greeted me. She, like me, saw through Mike’s facade long ago.
Here’s the twist: Mom helped us with this house, enabling Mike to secure it. Now, she’s why he’ll lose it.
The next day, I relished breakfast in my new, cozy apartment, amused at Mike’s frantic call.
“You set me up!” he fumed, as I calmly responded, enjoying my toast.
“Oh, remember the agreement with Mom?” I reminded him of the clause about her residing in the house.
He’d been blinded by grandiose dreams to notice it before.
Mom reminded him over the phone how things stood, her presence a thorn in his “victory.”
As their theatrical exchange played out, I couldn’t stifle my joy. Freedom had its own unbeatable taste.
With the call over and Mom in command, I knew I was finally liberated, able to savor a life untethered to Mike’s material illusions.
