And then I found out about Vanessa. It was like a stab to the heart, but it wasn’t the affair itself that broke me. It was the bank statements. Those black-and-white numbers, those cold, emotionless records of where all the money went.
Luxury jewelry. Expensive hotels. First-class flights. Lavish dinners.
All of it, charged to my name.
It wasn’t just that he had lied. It was that he had used me—my financial stability—to fund his second life. While I worked late into the night, fixing contracts and running the company, Ethan was living in a world I had no part in.
I wasn’t his partner.
I was his safety net.
And that safety net had just snapped.
The decision was clear. I didn’t hesitate. Not for a second. My lawyer called me early that morning, telling me the divorce agreement was ready. It was all set—just waiting for my signature. But before I signed, I had one more thing to do. I opened my laptop and dialed the bank.
One by one, I canceled every credit card.
“Card ending in 2184 canceled.”
“Card ending in 7730 canceled.”
“Card ending in 9042 canceled.”
The words were clean. Efficient. Permanent.
