Chapter 3

I hired a lawyer immediately.

Lauren, my college roommate, had become one of the sharpest family law attorneys in the city.

She flipped through the thick stack of papers I brought, then closed the folder with a heavy snap.

"Nora, are you absolutely certain you want a divorce?"

"One hundred percent."

"Do you understand what that means? You walked away from a tenured public sector job. You haven't worked in eight years. With the current market, jumping back in now will barely get you an entry-level salary. Mia’s schooling, your own health insurance, your mother-in-law's round-the-clock care—everything falls on your shoulders."

"His mother isn't my responsibility anymore."

"Legally speaking, you owe Evelyn zero duty of care. But can you really walk away?"

Lauren looked at me, part angry, part heartbroken. "If you actually had the guts to walk away, you wouldn't have played the dutiful unpaid nurse for three years."

My mind flashed back to the afternoon Evelyn had her stroke. Ethan was out of town at a convention. I was the one who dialed 911, signed the emergency surgery consent forms, and stayed awake outside the ICU for three days and nights.

Ethan didn't stroll in until the evening of the second day.

The first thing out of his mouth was: "Why the hell didn't you watch her properly?"

Blame. Nothing but blame.

I didn't answer Lauren’s question.

"Just do the math for me. How much can I get?"

Lauren reopened the file. "The investment property: you have a paper trail of every mortgage payment, so you can claim your equitable share. The G-Wagon: forged transfer documents make the title fraud, so we can get that voided. As for the hidden marital assets—the sixty grand in prep school tuition, plus every side transfer he made to her—we can recover every penny. Rough estimate? Around five hundred thousand dollars in liquid recovery."

"Is that enough?"

"Enough for what?"

"Enough for me to start my life over."

Lauren stared at me, then slowly smiled.

"Nora, you really have changed."

"How?"

"The old Nora would be bawling, asking 'Should I leave him?' The Nora sitting in front of me is asking 'How much can I take from him?'"

Pride shone in her eyes. "To be completely honest, on my drive here, I was bracing myself for you to chicken out again, crying about how you can't survive without that piece of trash."

I forced a bitter laugh. "Life beat the stupidity out of me. Don’t worry, Lauren. I’m not that pathetic anymore."

Lauren grinned. "Good. I'm going to draft the most ruthless settlement petition this court has ever seen."

I didn't go back to Ethan's place.

I stayed at my mom's, pretending to head to work every morning. Instead, I sat in a corner booth at a café all day, organizing every scrap of financial evidence.

On the third day, my phone buzzed.

It was Evelyn.

"Nora, when are you coming home?"

"I'm not coming back, Evelyn."

"Stop throwing a tantrum. Every married couple fights."

"Did your son forget to mention he has a four-year-old kid outside? Funded completely by our joint bank account?"

Silence lingered on the line for ten seconds.

"Nora, dear... men stray. It happens—"

"Are you saying it's just a little mistake?"

"What I mean is, you’re his lawful wife. The one outside is just a cheap side piece. If you blow up your marriage, you’re just handing everything over to her on a silver platter."

I hung up.

My chest felt strangely hollow. Not a ripple of anger.

I remembered three years ago, right after Evelyn’s stroke, Ethan hired a private home nurse.

The nurse quit after three days, saying the work was too exhausting.

So I stepped in.

Turning her twelve times a day. Sponge baths three times a day. Feeding her five times. Changing diapers endlessly.

Three years.

Over a thousand days.

Not once did Evelyn say a simple thank you.

Instead, whenever Ethan didn't come home, she would sneer, Did you fail to keep my son happy again?

The lawful wife.

What a prestigious title.

Just valuable enough to cover three years of unpaid elder care.