Chapter 1Keeping The Eight Million For Myself

The moment my husband crushed his third cigarette into the crystal ashtray and told me he wanted a divorce, the smell of bleach hit me like a physical blow.

It was a phantom scent, a sensory ghost from a future that hadn't happened yet—or rather, a past life that had already ended. It was the smell of the ten years I’d spent playing nurse to him in sterile hospital rooms. It was the smell of the air in my daughter’s lungs when she pointed a finger at me and called me a "sinner." It was the suffocating, desperate smell trapped inside my oxygen mask as I lay dying, listening to the news that my ex-husband had just married the young girl who used to be our maid.

Now, sitting across from me, Richard’s voice was strained, caught between guilt and a perverse kind of excitement. "I’ve fallen in love with her, Elena. One of Natalie’s classmates. It’s... it’s the real thing."

I stared at the unopened pack of nicotine gum on the coffee table. I’d bought it last year after the doctor warned him about his blood pressure. What a waste of money.

"Okay," I said. My voice sounded light, airy, as if I were discussing someone else’s weather.

In my previous life, this was the moment I had shattered our wedding photos. I had screamed, wept, and demanded to know how he could do this to our daughter, to our twenty-five years of history.

And what did that get me? The girl was sent abroad by her parents, Richard spiraled into a pit of whiskey and self-pity, and eventually, he collapsed from a stroke at a business dinner. I was the one who pushed his wheelchair through a decade of physical therapy. I wore through seven pairs of shoes walking him back to health, only for him to stand on his own two feet and immediately slap a divorce settlement in front of me.

Even our daughter, Natalie, had turned on me then. "It’s your fault, Mom! If you’d just let go ten years ago, Dad wouldn’t have wasted a decade. You ruined my career, my future—everything!"

The day they kicked me out of the house, I was coughing up blood at the gates of the subdivision, scrolling through their Instagram posts celebrating "the new family."

But now, the morning sun was filtering through the blinds, and Richard was waiting for my explosion.

I picked up the pen and flipped to the last page of the agreement. "I want the old cottage in the valley. You can keep the rest."

Richard froze. The expression on his face was identical to the one he’d worn in my past life when I’d refused to sign.

It was perfect. This time, I wasn't saving him. I was saving myself.

* * *

He snapped his head up, eyes wide with disbelief. "What? Say that again."

I picked up a piece of the braised pork I’d made for lunch and chewed slowly. "I said fine. We’ll split the liquid assets fifty-fifty. You have a problem with that?"

He narrowed his eyes, his mind clearly racing to find the trap. He remained silent.

I scooped a large portion of rice into my bowl and started eating with an appetite I hadn't felt in years. In my last life, I had starved myself for three days after he told me. I had withered away until the sickness took me.

Not this time. This time, I was going to be well-fed.

Richard let out a long, theatrical sigh, the "burdened intellectual" persona sliding back into place. "Elena, I’m being serious. I love Skye. And she loves me."

"Despite the twenty-five-year age gap, our souls are... intertwined. As my partner for the first half of my life, I expect you to respect my journey. I want your blessing."

I nodded, mouth full. "Sure. I’m pretty sick of your journey anyway."

He blinked. Then, a flicker of genuine surprise—and relief—crossed his face.

"You’re... you’re not just saying that? You’re not planning to make a scene at the university?"

I just kept eating.

He began to rub his hands together, his excitement becoming palpable. "Good. I’m glad you’ve reached this level of maturity. You’ve spent twenty years by my side; I suppose some of my refinement was bound to rub off on you."

"Listen," he continued, his voice dropping into that condescending 'professor' tone, "we’ll divide the assets into three. One for you, one for me, and one for Natalie. It’s more than fair."

"I’m staying with Dad," Natalie said suddenly. She had been slumped on the sofa, scrolling through her phone, pretending not to listen. "He can manage my share of the money."

Richard let out a booming laugh. "See? That’s my girl! Honestly, Elena, this is a great deal for you. You’ve been a housewife for two decades. You haven't exactly 'contributed' to the household income. You’ve lived off me for twenty years. You should be grateful for a third."

Natalie waved her phone at me, a cruel smirk on her face. "Mom, I just recorded you agreeing to the divorce. Don't even think about backing out."