Yours pretentiously, Mr. Billionaire

“Dean, please don't do this to me. We can talk about it.” I sobbed desperately, kneeling before my husband…well, ex-husband now. My pleas only seemed to infuriate him further as he looked down at me disdainfully. “The divorce has been finalized, Emery. You should have thought twice before cheating on me…with my best friend.” He added the last part with a glare. The ease with which he spoke, his hands stuffed in his pocket, unsettled me. He seemed…relieved? Dismissing the intrusive thoughts, I scooted closer, my sobs intensifying. “I don't know how it happened, Dean. You have to believe me. I would never do that to you.” As I attempted to grab his ankle, he moved away swiftly, as if I repulsed him. The tip of the Gucci shoes I'd gifted him earlier today to commemorate our fourth-anniversary inches away from me. The far-too-expensive shoe I'd emptied my savings to purchase mocked me. My lips quivered as I thought back on how happy I was minutes ago when he gave me the envelope as he tried on his new shoes. Dean never gave me anything, so I was elated to see what the envelope contained. How could he do this on a day like this? “So why is there a f*cking video of you straddling and kissing my best friend? If I had known you were such a liar, I would never have married you.” He spat bitterly. “Who knows what else you did that night that wasn't recorded?" “I don't know… I really don't.” I cried, eager for him to believe me. “I have no idea what happened that night, I woke up the next day without a single clue. You have to believe me.” He scoffed, “if you're trying to say someone spiked your drink-” A bulb lit in my head; maybe that was it. That would explain the haziness I felt the next morning. I cut him off. "Yes…yes. Maybe Derek…” “Stop! Now, you're trying to rope in my best friend into your web of lies?” I gasped, “I’ve always been honest with you, and you know that. We can figure out what happened together; We don't have to do this. Please Dean, I beg you. You know what happens to me if we divorce on these grounds.” My heart lurched to the ground as I thought of the agreement. “If you mean the infidelity clause, how is it my fault you chose to be a cheating wh*re?” “Whether you come to terms with it or not, this marriage died years ago. I've been putting up with you all this while out of pity, but I can't anymore…not after this.” He shook his head. “Pity?” I flinched. He looked at me like I had just asked if birds lived in water. “You have no one, Emery. Even your parents disowned you. Your child left before it was born. Don't you think you're the problem? You're drawing me back in every way. I need to figure my life out now. These four years have been a waste.” His words were arrows, and my heart was the dart. My body trembled as I cried. How could he say that? How could he use my deepest pain…my miscarriage against me? I opened my mouth, but he wasn't done. “And don't hate me for leaving you with nothing. That is simply compensation for breaking my heart by cheating and, well…putting up with you all these years. Besides, you were fully aware of the infidelity clause, and you signed the agreement willingly.” He flung the papers at me, "I don't want to see you here when I get back." I watched his retreating figure with blurry eyes. As he exited the door, I faced the harsh realization that there was no convincing him. I knew it was over, so I picked up the divorce papers and signed them. *** I wrapped my hands around me as the freezing breeze of the late November night hit my exposed arms. Less than an hour after I had walked out of the house with no destination in mind, I was stalked by a group of men who looked like they'd just seen their last supper. In my frightened state, my bags and phone had disappeared—courtesy of the said men, no doubt. I honestly had no idea how they did it. I'd burst into tears in the middle of the road as overwhelming waves of loneliness coursed through me. Now, I'm seated alone on a bench in an unfamiliar street, penniless and homeless. I have had no friends since moving away from New York when I married Dean right after graduation. The few people I hung out with here in New Jersey were Dean's friends and their girlfriends, so I couldn't ask for their help…not that they were particularly friendly to me either. And my parents were a different story entirely. They'd thrown me out as soon as they discovered I was pregnant with Dean's child on my graduation day. My parents were high-ranking leaders in church, and they had the 'perfect man' in mind for me: a pastor friend of theirs. I still shrivel at my father's expression when I introduced Dean as my fiancé and father of my growing fetus. Maybe Dean was right after all. Perhaps I was the problem. My parents left, my baby…one of the reasons I had chosen to be with Dean against my parents' wishes didn't stay either. Now, my marriage, the only thing in my life, is gone too. What was I doing wrong? Tears streamed down my cheeks for the umpteenth time today. Dean said our marriage died years ago. Why didn't I see the signs? I thought back on the last four years to know what I'd done amiss but came up with nothing. I gave my all to our marriage and did everything he asked of me. I opened a joint account when he insisted. I used my entire trust fund to pay his mother's medical bills. Even though he said he'd pay me back, he never did. He didn't like me to travel far, so I gave up my dream job at a top interior design firm, opting to be a secretary at a start-up firm not far from our home. After everything…he still left. A waste, just like he'd call it—all my sacrifices. My love meant nothing to him. I didn't know if I could ever heal from this deep, painful ache, but I knew I was done letting him control my emotions. And I was done loving him. I wiped the tears that flowed seamlessly, willing them to stop. “I refuse to cry over you anymore, Dean.” I whispered. “I have to be strong for myself, this isn't the time to wallow in self-pity.” I stood up, wishing my words could make me feel better. I glanced at the darkening sky with one destination in mind: my parents' house. They were my last and only hope. But how do I get to them with nothing on me when they live hours away? I ran my hands through my thick brown hair in frustration. Suddenly, a car pulled over.