The Goddess of Divorce Made Me His Boss

Chapter 7

Bernard POV

This was getting completely out of hand. I couldn't believe what I was hearing come out of Vanya's mouth. The woman I had controlled for five years was standing in my living room, dressed like some kind of movie star, talking about divorce papers and making wild accusations about Tracy and me.

"You can't leave me, Vanya," I said firmly, stepping closer to her with what I hoped was an intimidating presence. "You can never leave me because you're broke and helpless. Do you understand that? Without my financial support, you're nothing. You have no job, no money, no skills that anyone would pay for."

I gestured around the expensive living room, trying to make her see reason. "Look around you! You think you can afford to live like this on your own? You can't even afford to buy groceries without my credit card. So stop this ridiculous dreaming and clean up this mess you just created here."

But instead of backing down like she always did, Vanya just smiled at me. That smile made my stomach twist with unease because it was nothing like the submissive, frightened expression I was used to seeing on her face.

"Bernard is absolutely right," my mother said, stepping forward with her arms crossed. "Vanya, what exactly do you think you're doing here? This is Tracy's birthday party, and you're ruining it with your pathetic attention-seeking behavior."

Tracy nodded vigorously, her shock finally wearing off and being replaced by anger. "Seriously, what are you even doing here? You look ridiculous dressed up like that. It's like you're playing some kind of sick joke on all of us."

"I live here," Vanya said simply, but there was steel in her voice that I'd never heard before.

My mother laughed harshly. "You live here as Bernard's wife, which means you live here by his grace and generosity. You contribute nothing to this household except cooking and cleaning, which any maid could do better."

"That's rich coming from you," Vanya replied, her eyes flashing dangerously. "Tell me, Mrs. Fredrick, how exactly did you manage to have Bernard? Because from what I can tell, you spent your younger years sleeping around with anyone who would have you."

The words hit the room like a bomb. Several party guests gasped, and I felt my blood pressure skyrocket. How dare she speak to my mother like that?

"How DARE you, you worthless b***h!" my mother screamed, her face turning purple with rage. "How dare you speak to me with such disrespect! You're nothing but a pathetic housewife who can't even keep her own husband satisfied!"

"Mother, calm down," I said, though I was just as furious. But I also knew that Vanya was acting completely out of character, and something about this whole situation felt wrong.

Tracy stepped forward, her eyes blazing with hatred. "You want to know the truth, Vanya? Your husband finds you absolutely disgusting. He can't stand to touch you, can't stand to look at you, can't stand to be in the same room with you for more than five minutes."

I should have told Tracy to stop, but honestly, everything she was saying was true. I did find Vanya repulsive. Her skinny body, her boring personality, her constant need for attention and validation. She was nothing compared to Tracy's curves and confidence.

"He comes to me when he needs real comfort," Tracy continued, moving closer to Vanya with a cruel smile. "He comes to me when he wants to feel like a real man with a real woman. You're just the live-in maid who happens to share his last name."

"Tracy's right," I said, finally finding my voice. "You think putting on expensive clothes and makeup changes who you are? You're still the same boring, useless woman I married. Still the same person who has nothing to offer except housework."

Vanya listened to all of this with that same unsettling smile, like she was enjoying some private joke that the rest of us weren't in on.

"You know what's funny?" she said, her voice eerily calm. "You all think you're so clever, so superior. But you have no idea how stupid you really are."

"We're stupid?" my mother shrieked. "You're the one standing here in stolen clothes making ridiculous demands about divorce and house ownership!"

"Stolen clothes?" Vanya laughed, and the sound sent chills down my spine. "Oh, Mrs. Fredrick, you have no idea what you're talking about. But that's nothing new, is it? You've been clueless your entire life."

I could see that my mother was about to completely lose it, so I stepped in. "Enough! Vanya, I don't know what kind of breakdown you're having, but this needs to stop right now. You're embarrassing yourself and me in front of all our friends."

"Our friends?" Vanya repeated, looking around at the party guests who were recording everything on their phones. "These people aren't our friends, Bernard. They're vultures waiting to see whose life gets destroyed for their entertainment."

Tracy grabbed my arm possessively. "Bernard doesn't need this stress. He's been working so hard on his promotion, and now he has to deal with his crazy wife having a public meltdown."

"Working hard?" Vanya laughed again. "Is that what you call it when he steals my jewelry designs and gives them to you to impress other women? When he spends his days at construction sites doing absolutely nothing while his business crumbles around him?"

"How do you know about—" I started to say, then caught myself. There was no way she could know about the jewelry designs. I had been so careful.

"How do I know about what, Bernard?" Vanya asked sweetly. "About how you've been stealing my work for years? About how you give my original designs to Tracy and tell everyone she's the talented one? About how your entire relationship with her is built on my creativity and my labor?"

The room went deadly quiet. Even the party guests stopped their chattering to focus on what Vanya was saying.

"That's impossible," Tracy said, but her voice sounded uncertain. "Bernard would never—"

"Never what?" Vanya interrupted. "Never lie? Never steal? Never cheat? Oh, Tracy, sweet, naive Tracy. You really have no idea what kind of man you've been sleeping with, do you?"

I felt panic rising in my chest. How could she possibly know about any of this? And more importantly, how was I going to explain it away?

"You're making things up," I said desperately. "You're having some kind of psychological episode. These accusations are completely—"

"Are they?" Vanya asked, pulling out her phone. "Because I have some very interesting recordings that might suggest otherwise. Recordings of conversations that took place while I was supposedly unconscious in my hospital bed."

My blood turned to ice. If she had been awake when Tracy and I were talking in her room, if she had heard everything we said about her, about our plans, about our relationship...

"What recordings?" my mother demanded. "What is she talking about, Bernard?"

Tracy's face had gone completely white. "Bernard, what is she talking about? What conversations?"

Vanya smiled that terrifying smile again and held up her phone. "Should I play them for everyone to hear? Should I let your mother and your girlfriend hear exactly what you think of me? What you think of them? What you've been planning for my future?"

The panic was full-blown now. If those recordings existed, if she really had heard everything, then my life was about to be destroyed in front of everyone I knew.

"You're bluffing," I said, but my voice sounded weak even to my own ears.

"Am I?" Vanya asked, her finger hovering over her phone screen. "There's only one way to find out, isn't there?"