Her Billion Dollar Exit

THE PRICE OF THREE YEARS

EVELYN

​The light in the hallway flickered as Rebecca came back down the stairs, her face twisted into a smug grin as she saw me standing there with the crumpled papers in my hand, and she didn't even wait for me to speak before she started laughing at my expression.

​"I told you he didn't want you, Evelyn, I told you that you were just a charity case my father brought home because he felt guilty about your parents dying in that accident, so now you can finally pack your cheap bags and get out of our house," she said, crossing her arms and leaning against the banister while she watched me.

​I didn't cry like she wanted me to, and instead I just smoothed out the divorce papers on the small marble table in the foyer, my movements slow and deliberate while I looked at Arthur, who had paused halfway up the stairs to look back at us.

​"Is this really what you want, Arthur, because I need to hear you say it one more time without your sister hovering over us like a vulture," I said, my voice sounding much calmer than I felt inside, which seemed to surprise both of them.

​"Leave her alone, Rebecca, just go back to your room and let us finish this like adults without you making a scene in the middle of the night," Arthur muttered, looking tired as he walked back down a few steps to face me properly.

​"I just want to make sure she knows she’s not getting a dime of our family’s legacy, Arthur, because she’s been living off us for three years and it's time she earned her own keep for once," Rebecca snapped, but she finally stepped back into the shadows of the upstairs landing.

​Arthur sighed and looked at me, his eyes searching mine for the breakdown I think he expected, but I just stood there waiting for him to speak, and eventually he rubbed the bridge of his nose and said, "I'll handle my father, Evelyn, I'll tell him that it was my decision and that you did nothing wrong, so you don't have to worry about the fallout with the rest of the family."

​"And what about the compensation, Arthur, because your papers say you're giving me a house and a monthly allowance, but I don't think that covers the three years I spent trying to make this marriage work while you were dreaming about someone else," I said, feeling a sudden spark of cold anger replacing the sadness.

​"I told you the settlement was generous, but if there's something specific you want, just name it and I'll have the lawyers update the document right now so we can get this over with," he replied, sounding relieved that I wasn't begging him to stay.

​I thought about all the nights I spent waiting for him, and all the times I sat through dinners where he barely looked at me because I was just a placeholder for Samantha, and I realized that I didn't want his pity or his house, so I looked him straight in the eye and said, "I want three billion dollars, Arthur, and I want it transferred to my account as soon as the divorce is finalized."

​The silence that followed was so thick I could hear the clock ticking again, and Arthur’s face went from relief to pure shock, his mouth hanging open slightly before he let out a harsh, dry laugh that didn't reach his eyes.

​"Three billion? You've got to be kidding me, Evelyn, I knew you liked the lifestyle but I didn't think you were this greedy, or maybe you really were just a gold digger this entire time like Rebecca always said," he spat, his voice dripping with sudden contempt.

​"You said I could name my price, Arthur, and that is the price for three years of my life that I can never get back, so either you pay it or we can spend the next year fighting this in court and making sure your precious Samantha has to wait even longer to marry you," I said, picking up the pen that was tucked into the envelope.

​He looked like he wanted to scream at me, his face turning a dark shade of red, but then he looked at the papers and back at me, and I could see him calculating how much his freedom was worth compared to the money I was asking for.

​"Fine, if that's what it takes to get you out of my life forever, then I'll pay it, just sign the damn papers and leave before I change my mind about being civil with you," he growled, turning his back on me as if the very sight of me disgusted him now.

​I leaned over the table and scrawled my name on the bottom of each page without hesitating, the ink drying quickly on the white paper, and once I was done, I set the pen down and walked past him toward the stairs without saying another word.

​I could hear him shouting for Rebecca to come down and see what I had done, calling me names that should have hurt more, but I just kept walking until I reached the safety of my bedroom and locked the door behind me.

​The room was dark except for the moonlight streaming through the curtains, and as I walked toward the bed, my foot brushed against a small shopping bag I had hidden under the nightstand earlier that day.

​I reached down and pulled out the colorful pamphlet I had bought at the clinic, the one that talked about family planning and the best ways to start a family, because I had actually thought that having a child would fix the distance between us and make him finally love me for real.

​I had planned to give it to him on my birthday next week as a surprise, thinking that a baby would be the anchor our marriage needed, but now the smiling faces on the cover just looked like a cruel joke that I had played on myself.

​I sat on the edge of the mattress and tore the paper into tiny pieces, watching the scraps fall onto the carpet like snow, and I stayed there in the dark while the realization sank in that I had been fighting for a ghost for three years.

​I reached into my bedside drawer to find a suitcase, but my hand brushed against a small, velvet box that Arthur had given me for our first anniversary, and when I opened it, I saw the necklace inside that I used to think was a symbol of his affection, but now I saw it for what it truly was.

​Underneath the velvet lining of the box, there was a small slip of paper with a phone number I didn't recognize, written in a feminine script that definitely didn't belong to anyone in this house.