He Gave Me a Divorce, I Gave Him Ruin Chapter 01

He Gave Me a Divorce, I Gave Him Ruin Chapter 01

At my father’s funeral, my husband’s mistress sent me a selfie.

The jewelry she was wearing had been bought with a supplementary card tied to his trust fund.

And my husband, so he could be with her, had given me fake flight information, ensuring I wouldn’t see my father one last time.

So when he threw the divorce agreement in front of me and warned me not to cause trouble, I smiled.

He thought I’d lost my mind.

I hadn’t. I’d simply seen the truth.

After I signed, I blocked him on everything.

As for the morality clause in his hundred-million-dollar trust, I knew how to use it far better than he did.

…

The silence stretched on before Ethan finally crushed his cigar out in the crystal ashtray.

Leaning back against the leather sofa, he spoke in a lazy drawl, as if discussing a minor business loss. “The trust committee has been asking questions. About… certain charges on the supplementary card.”

He paused, his gaze landing on me, his tone that of a man critiquing an incompetent subordinate. “Amelia, I always thought public image was your area of expertise. This was a clumsy move.”

I didn’t answer. I just lowered my head and carefully signed my name on the divorce agreement.

The document was clear. I was relinquishing my claim to our marital assets, taking only what was mine before the marriage. Ethan’s lawyer would be thrilled.

“Don’t worry.” I set down the pen and pushed the papers back across the table. “It won’t happen again.”

Ethan froze for a beat, as if he hadn’t expected me to be so compliant. Then he sat up straighter, irritation sharpening his voice. “Good. See that it doesn’t. And don’t get any ideas about the assets, or else…”

He let the threat hang in the air.

I knew what he meant.

My fingers still trembled, just slightly.

The last time, he’d used the same kind of threat. I had anonymously sent a gossip columnist screenshots of Chloe flaunting her jewelry on social media, hinting that the source of her funds might violate the terms of his trust. I thought that would be enough to make Ethan stop.

Instead, I received a warning letter from his legal team, accusing me of malicious defamation and violating the confidentiality clause in our prenuptial agreement.

That night, Ethan came home and watched my face go pale as I read the letter.

He actually smiled.

“Happy with how this turned out, darling? Don’t play games you don’t understand.”

Strangely, thinking about that night now, I no longer felt the suffocating panic. All I felt was how laughable it was.

I carried my packed suitcase out the front door. My phone lit up with a photo of my father’s old ivy-covered house in New England. It was only then that I realized I could finally begin.

Outside the car window, Chloe’s face was plastered across the giant screens in Times Square, the star of a new perfume ad. Her smile was brilliant, as if she were the real lady of the Sterling house.

Ethan had been right about one thing. Chloe was famous now.

The first time I found out he was cheating was when Chloe came after me herself.

She sent me an intimate photo of herself and Ethan on a private jet with a single caption:

“He says you’re work. I’m life.”

I was so stupid then. Stupid enough to think it was just a PR problem to be managed.

I calmly approached Ethan, laid our marriage agreement out in front of him, and told him to get his mistress in line before she destroyed the public image we’d built together.

Ethan just waved a dismissive hand.

“I know, Amelia. I’ll handle it. Don’t bother me with this.”

It wasn’t until the New York Post published photos of them vacationing on a beach in Miami that the story truly exploded.

To protect Chloe’s fledgling career and her so-called reputation, Ethan’s PR team issued a vague statement, framing it all as an “ordinary interaction between friends.”

The internet praised Chloe for her charm and treated me, his legal wife, like a joke.

That was the first time I lost control.

I stormed into Ethan’s Wall Street office and threw a stack of printed credit card statements in his face, detailing every extravagant gift and private trip he’d paid for with trust money.

The pages scattered across the floor.

Holding back his fury, Ethan told his assistant to get the stunned Chloe out of the room. The second the door closed, he dropped the act.

He stared at me, forcing out each word through clenched teeth.

“Yes. I love her. And yes, I spent money on her. If you can’t stand it, divorce me.”

After he said it, we both froze.

In the end, I was the one who spoke first. My voice was so sharp, it sounded alien even to me.

“Divorce? Why should I step aside for the two of you?”

“Why should I give up my place to a woman who sleeps her way to the top?”

“Ethan, I will wait and watch this city spit you both out.”