He was weighing his options. On one hand, a debt of over $22,000 and responsibility for a deceased adoptive mother. On the other, freedom to go off with his young, attractive mistress.
He cleared his throat, trying to sound magnanimous, but he could not hide his relief. «Are you sure? You will take on the entire hospital debt and never ask me for alimony or anything else?»
«I am sure,» I replied, my voice firm and devoid of emotion. «I just want this house as a place to honor Mom.»
Michael smirked—the smile of someone who believes he has just shed an enormous weight. He took out a pen and signed the divorce papers. His signature was quick and decisive, as if severing 15 years of marriage without the slightest hint of nostalgia.
«As you wish. If you like dealing with problems, that is on you. I have signed. From now on, we go our separate ways. What is mine is mine, and the debts are yours too.»
He tossed the papers toward me with a triumphant air. «I am giving you the house. I have no interest in this godforsaken hole.»
«Thank you,» I said, my tone strangely calm. «You can leave now and never come back.»
I held the divorce papers in my hand as tears fell silently. I was not crying for the end of my marriage. I was crying for my mother-in-law.
She was right. She had seen through the dark soul of her adopted son. If I had not listened to her, if I had softened and given him the passbook from the start, I would be on the street now, with nothing and drowning in debt.
I pulled another stack of papers from the outer pocket of my purse, thick and neatly stapled, and gently tossed it to Michael. «Wait, do not leave so quickly. We have one last parting gift to sort out.»
Michael frowned with suspicion as he picked up the documents. He opened the first page, and instantly his triumphant smile froze and shattered. They were the detailed statements for his credit card and the bank transaction history for the last three months.
Every figure, every party destination was clearly marked in red. «Where did you get this?» Michael’s voice cracked. His hands began to shake as he flipped through the pages.
I answered calmly, my voice like ice. «Did you think I was a fool who only knew her way around a kitchen? While Mom was dying, you were using the credit card to buy a Hermes bag for your mistress, pay for five-star hotels in Miami, and constantly withdraw cash from ATMs near casinos. In total, you spent and racked up debts under the guise of business expenses for over $30,000.»
Michael turned white. Sweat poured down his face. He tried to defend himself, trying to salvage what little dignity he had left.
«So what? It is money I earned. I can spend it how I want. Besides, we were married. You are responsible for half of that debt too.»
«You are wrong,» I cut him off, my voice like steel. «Read the third clause of the divorce agreement you just signed. Both parties declare they have no shared debts. Any debt incurred in the name of one party, or spent for personal purposes, will be the sole responsibility of that party.»
Michael was stunned. He quickly pulled the agreement from his pocket to re-read it. In his haste to get rid of the house debt and hospital bills, he had not bothered to read the fine print.
I stepped closer to him, staring into his panic-stricken eyes. «All the money you spent on your mistress and on gambling has been proven to be for personal purposes, not for the family’s needs. I consulted with a lawyer. Now, not only have you lost the inheritance, but you will have to carry a debt of over $30,000 all by yourself.»
«Congratulations,» I whispered. «You have the freedom you wanted so badly.»
Michael stood motionless. The paper in his hand fell to the floor. He opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out. The trap his own greed and arrogance had set had snapped shut on him.
Two days later, after the divorce was finalized, I received a call from an unknown number. On the other end was a shaky, hesitant female voice, very different from the arrogant tone suggested by the photos I had seen. It was Natalie, Michael’s mistress.
She wanted to meet me in a discreet coffee shop in a quiet alley. She said she had something life-or-death to discuss with me about Michael. When I arrived, Natalie was already there.
She was hunched inside an oversized coat, her subtle makeup failing to hide her haggard look and the deep, dark circles under her eyes. When she saw me, she looked down, wringing her hands nervously. She looked like a drowned, helpless kitten, not the queen who had stolen another woman’s husband.
I sat down across from her and got straight to the point. «What do you want? If you have come to show off your trophy, you are too late. I have already gifted him to you.»
Natalie looked up, her eyes red and filled with tears. She shook her head. «No, it is not that, Sophia. I want to tell you the truth. I am not pregnant. It was a lie. It was all a charade to force Michael to marry me and get money out of him.»
Although I had suspected it, hearing it from her own lips sent a chill down my spine. I smiled bitterly. «Oh, really? And now that he is broke and drowning in debt, since there is nothing left to get, you are trying to back out?»
«No,» Natalie nodded frantically, tears streaming down her cheeks. «I know I was wrong. I thought he was rich, but he turned out to be just a fraud, living off the money he got from you and your family.»
She continued, «Now, some loan sharks are after him for gambling debts. I am afraid it will splash onto me. I want to leave him, but he will not let me go. He is threatening to post intimate photos of me if I leave.»
She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself, and lowered her voice. «Sophia, I know Michael is planning to hurt you. He is working with a sleazy lawyer to sue you for fraud and for abusing his mother. He has faked messages and manipulated photos to discredit you so he can claim the inheritance and force you to share his debts.»
I gripped the handle of my purse tightly. Rage consumed me. Michael had truly lost all humanity. After deceiving me for years, he now wanted to corner me with the vilest tactics.
Natalie slid a piece of paper across the table with a bank account number on it. «I have proof. I have secretly recorded his calls with the lawyer, and I know the password to his computer where he keeps all his dirty laundry. I will sell you all the evidence for $3,000. I need the money to pay off a debt and start over somewhere else. With this, he will not be able to do anything to you.»
I looked at the young woman before me with a mixture of bitterness and pity. She was also a victim of her own pragmatism and superficiality, trapped in a spiral of money. $3,000 was not a small amount, but compared to my safety and honor, it was worth it.
«Alright,» I replied dryly. «But first I need to see the merchandise. If the information is valid, the money will be in your account instantly.»
Trembling, Natalie connected a small black flash drive to my laptop. She moved quickly, as if trying to get rid of the burden as soon as possible. On the screen, several folders appeared. Natalie opened them one by one.
First were the call recordings. Michael’s voice was clear and full of resentment: «My wife is an idiot; a couple of threats and she will get scared. Prepare the lawsuit for abusing my mother to death. Add the photos I doctored the other day. I have to get that house back one way or another, or the loan sharks will skin me alive.»
My blood boiled. I had shared my life and sacrificed everything for this man. To him, I was just a pawn to be used and trampled on.
Then came the files of illicit chats with other women. But what shocked me the most was the last folder. It contained screenshots and an Excel file detailing his online gambling activities.
There were transfers of thousands of dollars every night to international sites. Natalie pointed to a picture of a company seal. «This is the most important thing. He created a shell company and used this seal to forge contracts and embezzle funds from the company where he works. He laundered the money through virtual casinos. I heard him say he has already stolen over $100,000.»
A shiver ran down my spine. Michael was not just a bad husband and an ungrateful son; he was a full-blown white-collar criminal. He had sunk so deep into the mire that now he wanted to drag me down with him.
I closed the laptop, took out the flash drive, and clutched it in my hand. It was small, but it felt as heavy as a ton. It contained the entire sordid truth of Michael’s life.
I took out my phone and transferred the $3,000 to Natalie. Seeing the confirmation message, her face relaxed slightly, but her eyes were still filled with fear.
«Thank you,» she whispered. «I am leaving. Be careful. He is like a cornered, rabid dog now. He is capable of anything.» Natalie grabbed her bag and quickly disappeared into the crowd.
I was left alone, drinking a bitter, cold coffee. I felt a mix of disgust and compassion for myself, for my late mother-in-law, and even for Michael. He had destroyed his own life with his greed.
Back home, I got to work finding the last piece of the puzzle. According to Natalie, Michael had a secret compartment behind the bookshelf in his old home office. I called a locksmith, telling him I had lost the key.
After nearly an hour, he managed to open the complex electronic lock. Inside was a tightly shut metal box. I used a crowbar to force it open.
Inside was a document. It was a will, but not my mother-in-law’s. It was a fake one Michael had commissioned from his lawyer. In it, Elizabeth left all her assets, including the town property and the money Michael suspected she had, to her only son.
What chilled my blood was the date on the document. On that day, my mother-in-law was in a deep coma in the hospital. How could a person in a coma get up and sign a will?
The signature was a shaky scrawl, but when compared to old letters from my mother-in-law, the forgery was obvious. Michael had guided her hand, or worse, he had faked the consent of a dying woman.
Tears of rage streamed down my cheeks. In his mother’s final moments, while I was watching over her, he was busy plotting how to steal her last breath. Michael’s lack of scruples had hit rock bottom.
I photographed every page and sent a copy to my own lawyer. «This is proof of forgery and fraud,» I wrote. «I want to prepare a lawsuit to put him in jail if he dares to bother me again.»