The holiday break was on, and my wife insisted on dragging me to her class reunion. By the time we got to the hotel, almost everyone was already there. They all looked like they’d made it big. A sea of Mercedes and BMWs filled the parking lot; my lone Dodge stuck out like a sore thumb. Even from a distance, I could hear the loud chatter. “I just don’t get it. Isabelle was the queen of our class back in the day. How did she end up marrying a loser like Christopher?” Hearing me insulted, my wife, Isabelle, didn’t say a word in my defense. Instead, she beamed, eagerly pulling her old friends into photos, deliberately leaving me standing alone on the sidelines. After the dinner and drinks had wound down, Wyatt, the old school bully, sauntered over to me, holding Isabelle’s hand. “Christopher,” he said, a smirk playing on his lips. “I’ve taken a liking to your wife. Name your price.” I tugged at the collar of my shirt, an involuntary smile touching my own lips. “You two should think this through,” I said softly. “Divorcing me could land you in prison.” 1 If my wife hadn’t pleaded with me over and over, I never would have had the time for a class reunion. But for the sake of old times, I’d gritted my teeth and asked my superior for leave. I never imagined that, at the dinner table, a former classmate would try to buy my wife right in front of me. What chilled me to the bone was that my wife, Isabelle, actually seemed to agree. “Christopher, oh, Christopher,” Wyatt drawled, his voice dripping with condescension. “It’s been years, but your talent for bullshit has really grown, hasn’t it?” He pulled out a thick checkbook. “The money is a courtesy. A thank-you for taking care of Bella for me all these years. A little something for your trouble.” He leaned in closer. “You? Get me thrown in jail? You should ask around. Who in all of Sterling City would dare to touch me?” Before I could respond, Isabelle threw herself into Wyatt’s arms. “Christopher, I’d advise you to just take the money,” she said, her voice cool. “Don’t make this awkward for everyone.” I looked up at their intertwined fingers, my own voice turning to ice. “This feels… rehearsed. You two planned this, didn’t you?” Back when I was at the office, Isabelle had called me relentlessly, insisting I had to come back for this, no matter what. Now it was clear. She and Wyatt had already rekindled their old flame. They were planning to use this reunion to publicly force me into a divorce. No wonder. All these years of marriage, and she’d never let me touch her. Her heart had always belonged to someone else. The moment I said it, Isabelle’s face changed. She stepped forward, her voice sharp. “That’s bullshit! What Wyatt and I have is true love. If his family hadn’t forced him to study abroad back then, I never would have agreed to marry you in the first place!” Her words hit me like a physical blow. I was stunned. Back in school, their breakup was explosive. The whole campus knew Wyatt had brutally dumped her. Now, in her version of the story, it was some star-crossed romance. I had no idea how they’d gotten back together, but one fact remained: right now, Isabelle was still my wife. A knot of anger tightened in my chest, a bitter pill I couldn’t swallow. “Isabelle, this is called cheating,” I said, my gaze locked on her. “An affair. You get that?” She couldn’t meet my eyes. Wyatt, ever the hero, pulled her protectively into his arms. “Cheating, not cheating, who cares?” he scoffed. “You’re just upset the price isn’t right, aren’t you?” He gestured expansively. “Name a number. I’ve got more money than I know what to do with!” I looked at his fleshy, sneering face and saw nothing but a clown. “Wyatt, don’t say I didn’t warn you,” I said, my voice low and steady. “If Isabelle divorces me today, within half an hour, both of you will be behind bars.” Before he could even react, Isabelle jumped in. “Don’t you dare try to scare us, Christopher! Who the hell do you think you are? You think you can get us arrested?” She laughed, a harsh, ugly sound. “After all these years of marriage, I barely see you. For all I know, you’re off working some construction gig in the middle of nowhere.” She looked me up and down with disdain. “Let me be honest. If it weren’t for the fact that you once had a pathetic little crush on me, you wouldn’t be getting a single damn cent.” A construction gig? The absurdity of it was almost comical. If my identity weren’t classified, I would have slapped that smirk right off her face. Her words sent a ripple of laughter through the room. “See? What did I tell you?” someone chimed in. “You marry at your level. A guy like Christopher, no background, no money… it was only a matter of time before his wife left him for someone better.” “Exactly! Look at what he’s wearing. I’m surprised he even had the nerve to show up.” “When it comes to real power, you gotta look at Wyatt. Throws money around like it’s nothing, and his family connections are solid gold.” The air thickened with their fawning praise for Wyatt. Not a single person spoke up for me. In their eyes, I was just the evening’s entertainment, a circus clown for them to mock. This kind of reunion, with these kinds of ‘friends’… I was better off without it. 2 I tuned out their jeers, preparing to get up and leave. But before I could move, a heavy hand clamped down on my shoulder. “Leaving so soon?” Wyatt’s voice was a low chuckle, but his eyes were pure contempt. “Did I say you could go?” He leaned in, his breath sour. “I’m giving you two choices, Christopher. Take the money and sign the papers, or I’ll beat you until you sign them. It’s up to you. Think carefully.” A real laugh escaped my lips this time. “You sure you want me to be the one to choose?” Wyatt, completely oblivious to the catastrophic mistake he was making, puffed out his chest. “Of course. You sign away your wife, and I’ll make sure you’re set for life. You’ll be living easy.” I fought down the surge of anger, keeping my voice level. “Fine. I can divorce Isabelle. And I don’t want a penny of your money. But…” I paused, drawing out the moment. “You have to let me make a phone call first. This isn’t a decision I can make on my own.” Wyatt burst out laughing. “Who the hell do you think you are, Christopher? I’m giving you a choice out of pity, not because we’re negotiating. I don’t give a damn who you have to call. You are signing this divorce today. Got it?” The threat was unmistakable, but I barely registered it. I was almost amused. “I already told you, I agree to the divorce,” I said calmly. “But I need the green light from upstairs. I really can’t authorize this myself.” Wyatt’s face darkened, and he looked ready to lunge, but Isabelle stopped him. “Honey, let’s be the bigger people here,” she cooed, stroking his arm. “Don’t stoop to his level. If he wants to make a call, let him. My heart belongs to you now. It doesn’t matter who he calls; nothing’s going to change my mind.” She looked at me with smug satisfaction, certain I was just making a desperate last-ditch effort to save our marriage. Before I could correct her, she continued, “And Christopher, don’t say I didn’t warn you. It doesn’t matter who you get on that phone. I am divorcing you today. It’s over.” I thought back on our marriage. I had never wronged her. I sent my entire monthly stipend to her, every last cent. She didn’t have to work, didn’t have to do chores. Her days were a carefree cycle of shopping and card games with her friends. The only drawback was that she only saw me once a year. But apparently, that life wasn’t enough. In that instant, whatever lingering flicker of affection I held for her was extinguished. “Don’t flatter yourself, Isabelle,” I said, my voice devoid of warmth. “I have no intention of trying to win you back. Frankly, the thought of it makes me sick.” I shifted my gaze to meet Wyatt’s. “As for you two… I just hope that after I make this call, you don’t live to regret it. Because when the fallout comes, no one will be able to save you.” I had tried, for the sake of old times, to give them an out. But some people just refuse to take it. People like Wyatt. “You son of a bitch,” he snarled, jabbing a finger at me. “Still putting on a show. Whoever regrets this is a coward’s whelp.” He was about to say more, but I held up a hand. “Good,” I said. “That’s all I needed to hear.” With that, I pulled out my phone and dialed my superior’s number. 3 “Hello? Director? It’s Christopher.” The voice on the other end was warm and familiar. “Christopher! You’re supposed to be on leave, kid. What’s so important you had to call me?” “Sir, I have a situation to report.” I quickly explained what was happening—the reunion, Wyatt, Isabelle, the forced divorce. I had barely finished when I heard the distinct sound of a glass shattering on the other end of the line. “Who has the audacity to force you into a divorce?” the Director’s voice boomed, stripped of its earlier warmth. Before I could answer, Wyatt snatched the phone from my hand. “Listen up, whoever you are,” he spat into the receiver. “I don’t give a damn who you are to Christopher. His wife is mine now, and nobody’s changing that. I’d advise you to stay out of it, unless you want a piece of this mess too!” The Director was probably stunned into silence for a few seconds. I could almost picture his face. When he finally spoke, his voice was dangerously calm. “So you’re the one forcing Christopher to get a divorce?” Wyatt, still blissfully unaware of who he was talking to, swaggered. “That’s right. It’s me. In Sterling City, what Wyatt wants, Wyatt gets. We’re talking about a woman here. Just a woman. I want her, so I’ll take her. Who’s going to stop me?” With a final, triumphant sneer, he slammed the phone down on the table, then stomped on it for good measure, grinding the shattered screen under his heel. My God. I’ve met some brave men, but I’ve never met anyone with a death wish quite like his. “Alright,” Wyatt said, turning back to me. “You made your call. Now it’s time to keep your promise.” He tossed a file onto the table, a pre-printed divorce agreement. “I even had the paperwork drawn up for you. Sign it.” Seeing the documents only confirmed my suspicions. Isabelle had been cheating for a long time. For someone like her, I felt no need for mercy. Without hesitation, I picked up the pen, signed my name, and pushed the papers back across the table. Isabelle stared at me, a flicker of shock in her eyes. “Christopher, what are you doing?” I looked up at her, my voice flat. “What? Isn’t this what you wanted from the very beginning? I’m giving you your wish. I’ve signed, I’ve pressed my fingerprint. Now you’re blaming me?” I gestured towards the papers. “You’d better sign it too. Before your beloved Wyatt changes his mind about you.” My words struck a nerve. Her face turned a sickly green. “Fine! I’ll sign! It’s not like I want to be married to you anyway!” she shrieked, snatching a pen and scribbling her name on the divorce papers. And just like that, my five-year marriage was over. Oddly, as I watched her sign her name, I felt no regret. Only a profound, liberating sense of relief, as if a great weight had been lifted from my shoulders. “I’ve signed. She’s all yours now,” I said, pushing my chair back. “Can I go?” “Wait!” Just as I was about to stand, Wyatt stopped me, a malicious grin spreading across his face. “Your business with Bella is finished,” he said, his voice dropping to a low growl. “But now… it’s time we settled our own score.”
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