For years, Mike had obsessed over his image—his wealth, his cars, his house. But when it came time for our divorce, I surprised him. I agreed to give him everything. The house, the car, the money. But as Mike celebrated thinking he had won, little did he know, I was about to turn the tables.
I stepped out of the lawyer’s office, shoulders slumped, wearing a mask of sadness. The rain poured down, matching the miserable look I was showing. But inside, I was bursting with excitement.
As soon as the elevator doors closed, I let out a giggle. Then another one. Soon, I was laughing so hard, I couldn’t stop. If anyone had seen me, they would’ve thought I’d lost my mind, but this wasn’t stress—it was the thrill of the plan finally working.
Mike could have the house, the car, the money. He could think he’d won, but I had a secret victory waiting.
A Few Weeks Earlier
Mike and I hadn’t been happy for years. It wasn’t just drifting apart—it was his obsession with status and money. He wanted fancy cars, a huge house, expensive clothes. And I had played along for way too long. But the cracks were obvious, and I knew divorce was coming.
What scared me wasn’t the divorce—it was Mike’s obsession with winning. He wanted everything: the house, the car, the savings. He didn’t care about the marriage, only the “win.” He wanted to take it all.
And that’s exactly what I let him do.
One evening, Mike came home late, angry, as usual. I was sitting in the kitchen, scrolling through my phone. He stormed in, glaring.
“We need to talk,” he said, clearly upset.
I sighed. “What now?”
“I want a divorce,” he said, throwing his keys on the counter.
Finally. I’d been waiting for this. I nodded, like it was no big deal, but inside, I was grinning.
“Okay,” I said.
He stared at me, shocked. “That’s it? No begging? No pleading?”
“What’s the point?” I shrugged, watching his frustration grow.
The Divorce Talks
The divorce meeting was just as boring as I thought it would be. Mike sat there, smug as ever, listing his demands: the house, the car, the savings. It was like a shopping list.
“Fine,” I said, barely paying attention. “You can have it all.”
My lawyer glanced at me, concerned, but I just nodded. Mike had no idea what was coming.
Mike’s eyes widened. “Wait… you don’t want the house? The savings?”
“Nope,” I said, leaning back in my chair. “It’s all yours.”
He was ecstatic. “Great! Pack your things and be out by six.”
“Sure,” I said, pretending to be calm.
Mike left the room thinking he’d won. But I knew better.
Back in the elevator, I sent a quick text: “Heading to the house to pack. Let’s proceed.”
Packing was easy. I didn’t want much—just my personal things. When I was done, I made a call to my mom.
“Hey, Mom,” I said when she answered. “It’s time.”
My mom, Barbara, had never liked Mike. From the start, she saw through him. And she had helped buy the house—on the condition that she had a stake in it. Mike had missed that part.
The Next Day
The next morning, I settled into my new place when my phone rang. It was Mike.
“You set me up!” he screamed.
I put him on speaker, sipping my coffee. “What are you talking about?”
“Your mother! She’s in MY house! She’s taken over everything!”
I smiled. “Oh, that? You forgot about the contract, didn’t you? The one that lets Mom live there whenever she wants, since she gave the down payment?”
Silence. I knew he was realizing the truth.
“You can’t be serious! I’ll sue!” Mike shouted.
But before he could say more, I heard my mom in the background. “Michael, take your feet off my coffee table! And stop hogging the remote!”
I chuckled as Mike tried to argue, but my mom wasn’t having it.
“You hear me?” she continued. “And while you’re at it, fix the grocery situation. I’m not living off frozen dinners!”
The phone clicked off. I smiled, feeling free.
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