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Chapter 9
"Didn't your precious Mr. Carter tell you?" I asked, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "He married into my family. The house, the cars—everything was bought by me."
"Not only that—he hasn't worked a single day since we got married. Even that shabby internet café he brags about? I paid for it. And it's been losing money ever since. If we divorce, he'll go back to being the broke fool he was before. He'll have nothing. Do you get that?"
Miss Taylor's face froze in shock. She covered her mouth like she was trying to process what I'd just said.
"No… no, that's impossible," she stammered. "Mr. Carter told me he was the one with the assets. He said you were the trophy wife he's been supporting all this time!"
I smiled coldly, my gaze locked on her. "Honey, I'm the real trophy in this relationship."
Mason's face turned beet red, but he still tried to salvage what little pride he had left.
"Does it even matter now?" he snapped, voice shaking. "Once we're divorced, all of this will belong to me. I'll take those millions in assets and rebuild my life. Jenna, I'm done with you."
"With all that money, you really think I won't find someone better than you?" he added smugly. "I can have any woman I want."
Miss Taylor's eyes practically sparkled when she heard "millions." She practically glued herself to Mason, rubbing against him like a cat marking its territory.
But before Mason could gloat any further, the police arrived.
I calmly explained to the officers how Miss Taylor had falsely accused me of infidelity.
Miss Taylor, still clinging to her fabricated story, confidently said, "I might not have the hotel surveillance footage anymore, but I remember what the guy looked like! He had thick eyebrows and wore a green jacket. I'll never forget his face."
She rattled off the supposed date, time, and location of the incident, all with the confidence of someone who believed their own lies.
I couldn't help myself. I burst out laughing.
"What's so funny?" Miss Taylor snapped, her smug expression shifting to suspicion.
"I'm laughing because you're an idiot," I said, my tone sharp and mocking. "You can't even keep your lies straight. On June 7th, the day you claim I was at a hotel with some mystery man, I was at the office. Back-to-back meetings all day. I worked late into the night. There's security footage to prove it."
I crossed my arms and stared her down. "So congratulations, Miss Taylor. You've just committed defamation. I'll be suing you for slander."
For the first time, Miss Taylor's confidence faltered. Her face drained of color, and her voice became shaky.
"M—Maybe I made a mistake. It's possible I got the wrong person. Lots of people look alike, you know…"
Mason, who had been silently watching the scene unfold, finally started to piece things together. He stared at Miss Taylor, realization sinking in.
"You… you were lying?" he demanded, grabbing her by the shoulders.
Miss Taylor hesitated, then doubled down, puffing out her chest with false bravado.
"Why would I lie? I know what I saw! Your wife is the one sneaking around behind your back. She doesn't deserve you, Mason!"
Mason turned back to me, his tone shifting to smug triumph.
"Jenna, don't forget what's in our prenup. If either of us cheats, the guilty party leaves with nothing. That means the house, the cars, and all that money? It's mine now."
He pulled Miss Taylor closer, grinning like he'd just won the lottery.
"Thank you, Taylor. You're my lucky charm. Finally, I can be free of this woman. Once the divorce is finalized, we'll get married, and we'll have more than enough to enjoy the rest of our lives."
Miss Taylor, still nursing her bruised ego, perked up at the mention of marriage.
"But Mason," she said sweetly, "why leave the company with her? If you don't know how to run it, we can just hire someone to manage it for us."
Mason hesitated, his confidence starting to crack. He knew the truth: the company was my family's business. No matter what happened, he'd never be able to take it from me.
And I wasn't going to let him continue this charade.
I stepped forward, my voice calm but cutting.
"Haven't you been listening? Mason didn't build this life. He married into it. He's nothing but a leech."
The crowd gasped. Mason's face turned a deep shade of red as he tried to stammer out a response, but I didn't give him the chance.
"You think you'll walk away with the house, the cars, the money? Don't make me laugh. Everything is under my name. The only thing you'll leave with is your pride—if you can find it."
Miss Taylor's face twisted in confusion and anger.
"B—But Mason said he was the one with the money!"
I turned to her, smirking. "And you believed him? How cute. Let me make this clear: without me, Mason is nothing. You're welcome to him, sweetheart. Enjoy your new life of poverty."
True to my word, Mason and I divorced. As per the prenup, he walked away with nothing—no house, no car, no money.
With no job and no skills, Mason latched onto Miss Taylor, who thought she was getting a rich, charming husband.
Turns out, she was stuck with a freeloading deadbeat.
Miss Taylor's private school job paid decently, but it wasn't enough to support Mason's lazy lifestyle. He refused to work, spending his days lounging around her apartment and complaining.
Their arguments escalated quickly. Miss Taylor began taking out her frustrations on Angie, punishing her for the smallest things—skipping meals, sleeping on the floor, even scrubbing toilets.
Mason, tired of their chaotic life, decided to try his luck elsewhere. He thought his looks could land him a wealthy sugar mama, but the only woman who showed interest was much older and had… unconventional tastes. Let's just say Mason wasn't exactly living the dream.
As for Miss Taylor? She switched to another school, but her habits didn't change. She kept targeting wealthy fathers, hoping to score her next big payout.
Her schemes finally caught up with her when one of the wives caught her red-handed. A video of Miss Taylor getting slapped in public went viral, and she became a laughingstock overnight.
Angie eventually went to live with Mason's parents, who, thankfully, seemed to care about her well-being.
As for me? I couldn't be happier.
With Mason and his baggage out of my life, I embraced my freedom. My business thrived, my bank account grew, and I finally had the time to focus on myself.
Here's to living my best life—rich, single, and absolutely unbothered.