Chapter 2

2

When we divided up the property, I only took my savings account. It had like, $40,000. Not bad.

Steve couldn't resist gloating. "See how generous I am? You were living off me for years! You never paid a dime for rent!"

I wanted to punch him in the face, but I bit my tongue.

"Just because you're being a good sport about the divorce, I'll throw in another $10,000. Don't want you ending up homeless, digging through trash."

I happily accepted Steve's money.

I may hate this guy, but I sure as hell didn't hate his money. Especially since I knew he was about to be flush with cash.

Three days ago, he won the lottery �C a cool three million after taxes. He wanted to ditch me and play house with Ashley before he even cashed the damn ticket.

Last time, I was clueless. I wanted to hold onto my crumbling family �C my supposedly decent husband, my third-grade son. I thought I could fix things.

Then I saw Ashley's post on Instagram, a sickeningly sweet photo of her and Steve all cozied up. The caption read: "After all these years, after all the wrong turns, we're finally together."

Steve looked genuinely happy in the picture, a total contrast to the annoyed, impatient way he usually treated me.

And don't even get me started on Timmy, who started treating me like garbage the second Ashley moved in, constantly begging me to buy him video games and sugary treats.

Last time, I drove over there and slapped Ashley across the face, calling her every name in the book. And they repaid my anger by locking me up in the basement.

A slap on the face doesn't even begin to cover the pain of being baked alive!

This time, they were going to suffer a thousand times worse than I did.

Leaving the courthouse, I watched Timmy run into Ashley's arms. Steve put his arm around them, playing happy family.

Laugh now, assholes. Your laughter won't last for long.

Back at the house, I immediately started planning my survival strategy.

Halfway through writing my supply list, Steve came back with Timmy.

Judging by the smug look on his face, he'd already collected his winnings.

I ignored them and kept working on my plan.

Timmy ran over to me, whining, "I want to go to Disneyland with Dad! Pack our stuff, now!"

"I'm not your maid, kid. Ask Ashley."

Timmy threw a water glass at me. "You're my mom! You're supposed to do what I say! Or I'll tell Dad to hit you!"

The glass shattered, cutting my leg. Looking at Timmy's entitled face, I wanted to beat the living hell out of him.

Before I had Timmy, I was an executive at a major company. But Timmy was a mama's boy, and every time I wasn't by his side, he'd start bawling. So I gave it up. Gave up my career for ten years to be his damn mom.

And how did he pay me back? By watching me die in the basement, gobbling up my supplies with his new mother.

I begged him to at least get me some water, but he plugged the air vent to impress Ashley.

That was the moment he lost all my affection.

Sometimes, you just have to give up any hope for a happy ending and start planning your revenge.

I slapped Timmy so hard his cheek turned bright red.