From Fake Divorce to Real Fortune Novel – Chapter 2
Lying in bed that night, I waited for Jack’s breathing to deepen into a snore.
I’d thought about checking his phone, trying to find out who this “new girl” was, but he slept with it tucked under his pillow, a new habit.
[She bought it! Heading to the courthouse next week.]
[Plan is, once I’m over there, I’ll go dark. Fake an accident or something. No more money to send back.]
[By the time I decide to ‘reappear,’ parents will be gone, kid will be grown. I’ll be set.]
The comments were a chorus of congratulations for his “genius” plan.
I couldn’t stop myself. I typed a quick reply from a burner account.
[You think you can screw over your family like that and not face any consequences?]
The trolls descended instantly.
[Consequences? Being stuck with a shrew IS the consequence, buddy.]
[Clearly, you’re not married. Wildflowers are always better than the ones wilting at home.]
Their casual cruelty was a punch to the gut. I deleted my comment, my hands shaking.
Jack mumbled in his sleep, oblivious.
The urge to smother him with his own pillow was surprisingly strong.
Instead, I just stared at him.
Go, I thought. Go and enjoy your “freedom.”
Getting back in won’t be so easy.
The next morning, Jack was practically vibrating with impatience to get to the county clerk’s office.
The mandatory waiting period in California felt like an eternity to him. He was terrified I’d change my mind.
He laid on the charm thick, a doting husband, a loving father. My in-laws, John and Margaret, beamed at his attentiveness.
Even Sophia, all of four years old, said, “Mommy, Daddy is being so nice!”
She didn’t understand the darkness lurking beneath the shiny surface.
I’d teach her, slowly. Words are cheap. Real security is what you build for yourself.
The day the divorce was finalized, Jack snapped a picture of the decree with his phone.
I saw him update his private Instagram later, a new account I’d found by searching for variations of his old usernames and Ashley’s — his much younger, much blonder colleague.
The post was simple
He packed his bags that evening, telling Sophia and his parents it was a sudden work assignment.
No one knew about the divorce except us.
At the door, he pulled me into a hug, his joy barely contained.
“Take care of Mom and Dad for me, Em. I’ll be back before you know it, and we’ll be living the high life.”
I waved, a picture of a supportive wife, until his car disappeared down the street.
Back in our bedroom, I noticed the joint bank account debit card was missing from my wallet.
The account held nearly $50,000 — our down payment savings for a house.
My first instinct was to call and scream.
Then I stopped.
Let him have it. It was a fraction of what I’d squirreled away.
Jack always made good money as a sales manager, and before Ashley, he’d given me his whole paycheck.
I was meticulous with our finances. If groceries were $200, I’d tell him $250. A $500 car repair became $700.
The difference went into an account only I knew existed.
That, plus my original dowry from my parents, and the generous “pocket money” John and Margaret often pressed into my hand, added up.
My secret stash was well over $100,000.
A woman needs her own safety net.
Jack’s last Instagram post before he went completely silent showed two hands, his and Ashley’s, intertwined against a European sunset.
His location tag was Munich, Germany.
Then, nothing.
His account vanished.
His phone went straight to voicemail.