The Greatest Investment
The sound of Derek’s pen scratching against paper filled the silent courtroom like nails on a chalkboard. I watched from across the mahogany table as my husband of eight years signed our divorce papers with the same casual indifference he’d shown when signing grocery lists. “Well, that was easier than I thought,” Derek muttered to his high-priced attorney, loud enough for me and my court-appointed lawyer to hear.
“I almost feel bad for her. Almost.”
Judge Harrison, a stern woman in her sixties with silver hair pulled back in a tight bun, looked over her glasses at Derek with obvious disapproval. “Mr.
Thompson, please show respect for these proceedings and your wife.”
“Soon-to-be ex-wife,” Derek corrected with a chuckle. “And with all due respect, your honor, I think we can all agree this is long overdue.”
I kept my hands folded in my lap, digging my nails into my palms to keep from trembling. My simple black dress felt shabby compared to Derek’s polished appearance—exactly the image he wanted to project: successful businessman divorcing his struggling wife who couldn’t keep up with his ambitions.
From the corner of my eye, I caught sight of her. Candace sat in the back row, trying to look inconspicuous in her red dress and designer heels. My replacement.
Derek’s secretary turned mistress, though she preferred to call herself his “business partner” now. “Mrs. Thompson,” Judge Harrison addressed me directly.
“Do you have anything you’d like to say before we finalize these proceedings?”
I opened my mouth, then closed it again. What could I say? That my husband had cheated on me?
That he’d manipulated our finances so everything was in his name? That he’d made me financially dependent on him and then discarded me like yesterday’s newspaper? “No, your honor,” I finally managed.
Derek’s smirk widened. “See, even she knows this is for the best.”
My lawyer, Mrs. Patterson, a kind older woman who was working my case pro bono, shuffled through her papers nervously.
According to the settlement, I would get the house—mortgaged to the hilt—our old Honda, and a small monthly alimony payment. Derek would keep his successful consulting business, his BMW, his boat, and his substantial retirement accounts. “Before we conclude,” Mrs.
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