Evan stared at me. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I did. Every month. You just liked your mother’s story better.”
I handed him one final envelope.
Divorce papers.
His voice grew quiet. “You planned this?”
“No. I planned a new apartment. You planned the divorce when you asked your wife to leave her home so your brother could have it.”
Diane accused me of being vindictive, selfish, and cold.
I waited until she finished.
Then replied, “You wanted me out. Congratulations.”
Forty-three days later, all four moved out because none qualified to retain the house. Michael and Lauren rented a small two-bedroom apartment forty minutes away. Diane relocated to a senior apartment she constantly complained about. Evan sought reconciliation after realizing the comfortable lifestyle he believed he’d built had actually been financed and managed by me.
I refused.
The divorce was straightforward because we’d kept most finances separate. Evan retained his savings. I kept my business, assets, and peace.
