I looked at him one final time.
What I wanted to say was: This is what happens when the woman you underestimated finally stops begging for scraps.
What I actually said was, “From this moment forward, the children and I won’t interfere with your new life.”
I walked out before he could respond.
Behind me, I heard Megan whisper sharply, “She’s bluffing.”
But I wasn’t bluffing. I hadn’t been bluffing for weeks.
The driver handed me a thick envelope the moment I got into the SUV. “Mr. Mercer asked me to give this to you personally.”
I opened it as the car merged into traffic. Inside were copies of bank transfers, property documents, and photographs. In one photograph, David stood beside Allison—his twenty-six-year-old mistress—inside a real estate office, both of them grinning over paperwork for a luxury condo.
