So that was it.
All the love he had professed was a calculation. He was only by my side because of my title as the CEO’s daughter. And now that the title was gone, he intended to discard me like a useless object.
“Scum,” I screamed. “You are human trash.”
“Who are you calling trash?” She screeched back. “You should be grateful my son put up with you for the last 5 years. Just sign the papers and get out of my sight.”
I looked at Ethan with pleading eyes.
“Ethan, please don’t do this to me. We can work through anything together, but not divorce. Please.”
But the man I had loved with all my heart replied coldly, “It’s too late, Sophia. My feelings for you died the day I found out your family was ruined. Either you sign or I’ll see you in court.”
His words were like a hammer blow, shattering my last hope, my last illusion.
I collapsed onto the floor, clutching the divorce papers and sobbing uncontrollably. I had been deceived in the most cruel and absolute way. The man I loved most turned out to be a demon, a con artist wearing a mask of love.
He and his mother had put on a play together, a play to use me, exploit me, and finally abandon me without mercy.
I cried until my tears ran dry.
But in the midst of that extreme pain, a cold rage began to boil inside me. It was my mistake to believe in love, but I would not let them continue to trample on me.
I wiped my tears and shot to my feet. I grabbed the pen and signed my name on the divorce petition, a signature without hesitation.
“Signed. Fine, let’s get a divorce.”
Ethan and his mother seemed a little surprised by my change in attitude.
I continued in a firm voice. “This house was a gift from my father. Even if we divorce, I’m not going anywhere. This is still my house.”
Hearing my words, Ethan and Carol looked at each other and burst out laughing, a laugh full of contempt and pity.
“Your house?” Ethan said, laughing until he had tears in his eyes. “Sophia, you’re so naive. It’s pathetic. Do you really think any part of this house will be left for you after the divorce?”
He walked over, pulled another folder from his briefcase, and threw it in front of me.
“See for yourself whose signature is this.”
With trembling hands, I picked up the document, and felt the world collapse once more.
It was a quit claim deed, transferring my interest in the property, and below my signature was clearly written.
It was then that I realized the stack of papers I had signed, the trap I had walked into with my own two hands.
“You tricked me!” I screamed, lunging at him like a wild animal.
But he easily pushed me away, and I fell clumsily to the floor.
“Tricked you? More like you were too stupid,” he said, looking down at me with the eyes of a victor. “Who can you blame now? After signing a document with your own hand, gifting your share of the house to your husband, this house is now mine alone. You don’t get a single scent.”
I collapsed onto the floor, completely broken.
I had lost everything. I had lost my husband, my faith, and now even my home. I had been cheated in the most brutal way imaginable.
The days leading up to the court date were a living hell. I was living in my own home, but treated like a prisoner. I was seen as a nuisance to be disposed of as quickly as possible.
Ethan and his mother no longer bothered with pretenses. They openly criticized and insulted me. They would deliberately talk loudly about how they would redecorate the house after kicking out the dead weight or how they would invite friends over to celebrate being free of the burden.
Every word was like a thousand needles piercing my bleeding heart.
I contacted several law firms for help, but when I told them my story and admitted that I had signed the quit claim deed with my own hand, they all shook their heads with looks of helplessness.
“It’s going to be tough,” one older lawyer told me. “The document is clear and properly notorized. Unless you have hard evidence of fraud or duress, like an audio or video recording, the chances of overturning this are practically zero. The court only rules on evidence.”
evidence.
Where was I going to get evidence?
Everything had happened between Ethan and me, and his sweet words and kind gestures were all an act, a performance that had left no trace.
I was at a dead end. I felt so stupid, so naive. How could I have fallen for such a crude trap? How could I have signed documents without reading them carefully?
I blamed and reproached myself, but the self-reroach soon turned to anger.
It wasn’t my fault. It was their fault. It was the fault of those people who had used my love and trust to weave such a vile plot.
I decided to go to court even if I lost. I had to stand before the law and tell the whole truth in my own voice. Even if no one believed me, I had to show the world their true faces.
The court date was set. I went to the courthouse alone without a lawyer or family. I didn’t dare tell my parents the truth. They were already suffering enough from the bankruptcy. I didn’t want to worry them more. I lied, telling them Ethan and I were having a small conflict and needed some time apart.
When I entered the courtroom, I saw Ethan and his mother sitting there. They weren’t alone. Beside them sat a sharp, confident looking lawyer. Seeing me alone, they looked at me with even more scorn and self asssurance. They were certain of their victory.
The hearing was swift. For me, it was almost a form of torture. Ethan’s lawyer presented his arguments clearly and eloquently. He stated that our marriage had broken down due to irreconcilable differences in background and thinking. And then with a triumphant heir, he played his winning card, the quit claim deed, with my signature.
“Your honor,” he said with feigned somnity, “as for the assets, we have no dispute. In consideration of their marital affection and in gratitude for the care my client’s family provided her during a difficult time, my client’s wife, Miss Sophia Prescott, chose to gift her entire share of the penthouse to her husband, Mr. Ethan Miller. All procedures are legal and have been duly notorized.”
A choking rage rose in my throat. His words twisted the truth shamelessly. Gratitude, care. They had turned me from a victim of a scam into a sympathetic wife.
“That’s not true,” I shouted, jumping to my feet, unable to contain myself any longer. “It’s all lies. They tricked me. I didn’t know anything about that document. He deceived me. He told me they were papers for a bank loan to help my father. They forced me to sign.”
But the judge just looked at me with a pitying expression.
“Please calm down, Miss Prescott. The signature on the document is yours, is it not?”
I looked at the signature projected on the screen. It was without a doubt my signature. I couldn’t deny it.
“But—but I didn’t know the contents,” I stammered, sobbing. “They tricked me. Please believe me, your honor.”
“Do you have any proof of fraud or duress?” Ethan’s lawyer retorted.
A challenging question. A dagger twisting in my powerlessness.
Proof?
Where was I going to get proof?
Everything had happened between him and me, and his sweet words had vanished like smoke, leaving no trace.
I was helpless. I could only stand there crying and repeating desperately.
“They tricked me. It’s unfair. Please believe me.”
But my tears were worthless against the black and white of the paper.
Ethan and his mother sat there watching my suffering. There wasn’t a shred of compassion in their eyes, only the victor’s elation.
Finally, the hearing was over. The judge struck the gavl. The sharp sound was like the final nail in the coffin of my marriage and my faith.
After reviewing the evidence presented, he read the verdict in a flat voice.
“This court recognizes the quit claim deed between Miss Sophia Prescott and Mr. Ethan Miller as a fully legal and notorized contract. Miss Prescott has not presented any evidence of fraud or duress. Therefore, the court grants Mr. Ethan Miller’s petition for divorce. Regarding the assets, the penthouse at the aforementioned address is confirmed to be the sole property of Mr. Ethan Miller.”
I fell back into my chair. My ears were ringing and everything went dark.
I had lost. I had lost spectacularly. I had lost to my naivity and my blind faith. I had lost.
Justice was not on my side.
But I couldn’t accept it. I just couldn’t accept this harsh reality.
I didn’t go to my parents house. I didn’t want them to see me in this miserable state. I had nowhere else to go. Aimlessly, I took a cab back to that penthouse. What was once my home was now the battlefield where I had been defeated.
When I arrived, Ethan and his mother had just gotten back as well. But amidst the pain and despair, a feeling of anger and rebellion began to grow.
No, I couldn’t give up like this. That house was my house. I wasn’t going anywhere. I wouldn’t let them take everything from me so easily. I would stay and fight until the very end. Even if I was alone, even if I had to use the most extreme methods, I stumbled out of the courthouse. My mind a blank. The sky outside was gray and a cold, fine rain was falling, mirroring my soul.
I had lost. Justice wasn’t on my side, but I couldn’t accept it. I just couldn’t accept this brutal reality. I didn’t go to my parents’ place. I didn’t want them to see me so broken. I had nowhere else to go. Aimlessly, I hailed a cab and returned to that penthouse, what was once my home, now the battlefield of my defeat.
When I arrived, Ethan and his mother were just getting back, too. Seeing me, Carol curled her lip in a snear.
“Why did you crawl back here? The judge already made his ruling. This isn’t your house anymore. Didn’t you hear? Are you deaf? Get lost. The sight of you makes me sick.”
I walked into the house without a word and went straight up to my room. I wasn’t going anywhere. This house was a gift from my parents. It might not be mine on paper anymore, but morally I was still its owner.
As I refused to leave, Ethan came up and blocked my doorway.
“What are you doing? Are you planning to squat here?”
“Yes,” I said, lifting my head and looking him straight in the eye. For the first time, my gaze was defiant. “This house belongs to my parents. It’s the fruit of their blood, sweat, and tears. I’m not going anywhere. If I have to die, I’ll die in this house. I won’t let con artists like you have it so easily.”
“You, who are you calling a con artist?” Carol shrieked, rushing up from behind and pointing a finger in my face.
“If the shoe fits, wear it,” I replied, my voice as cold as ice.
My stubborn and defiant attitude infuriated them, but since they had just come from court, they didn’t dare do anything drastic.
“Fine,” Ethan sneered. “If you want to stay, stay, but don’t expect to live comfortably. Let’s see how long you can last.”
It was the third day I had held out in my room. His patience had likely run out because Ethan no longer seemed willing to play games. He pounded on my door.
“Sophia, get out here right now.”
I didn’t answer.
“You’re not coming out. You want me to break down the door?”
I knew with his temper he was perfectly capable of it. I took a deep breath and opened the door.
He stood there with his arms crossed, looking down at me arrogantly.
“You still haven’t left? You’re really going to stay here so shamelessly. Let me tell you something, Sophia. Your bankrupt family is no match for us. You’d better leave quietly. Don’t make me hurt you.”
I just stared at him in silence. My silence seemed to enrage him further.
“Fine, you asked for it.”
He pulled out his smartphone and dialed a number, a number I would never forget. “My father’s number.”
“Hello, am I speaking to my father-in-law?” he said into the phone. His tone was full of contempt and defiance. He put it on speakerphone deliberately so that both I and his mother, who was standing nearby, could hear.
“It’s Ethan. I’m calling with some good news. your darling daughter. As of today, she’s no longer my wife. We just got divorced.”
There was silence on the other end. I could imagine my father’s shock and pain. My heart clenched, but Ethan didn’t stop. He laughed cruy.
“Oh, but I’m not just calling to share the news. Sorry to bother you, but could you come and pick up your troublesome daughter? She’s holed up in my house and has no intention of leaving. Says she’d rather die here. What a great upbringing you gave her. Even taught her how to be a freeloader in someone else’s house.”
Clang, I heard something break on the other end. It was probably the teacup my father always held.
“What did you just say?” My father’s voice trembled with rage.
“I said, ‘Come and get her.’” Ethan roared like a wild animal. “My house isn’t a charity for the daughter of a washed up old man like you. I’ll give you 1 hour. If she’s still here in an hour, don’t blame me if I have someone drag her out onto the street. Goodbye.”
He hung up and threw the phone on the table. He turned to me with a triumphant smile.
I stood there, tears streaming down my face, but this time they weren’t tears of helplessness. They were tears of profound rage. He had not only insulted me, but my parents, the people I love most in this world. He had crossed my final line.
I was wrong. Stubbornly staying here was pointless. It only gave them more excuses to hurt my loved ones.
Come pick up your troublesome daughter.
Ethan’s words echoed in my head, sharp as a thousand shards of glass, tearing my heart to shreds. He had not only insulted me, but my parents, the people I cherished most. He had trampled on the last shred of pride my family and I had left.
In that instant, I felt everything inside me shatter. Faith, love, even the last ounce of strength I had to protect what I called a family. It all vanished like smoke.
I stood in the middle of the lavish living room, sobbing uncontrollably. Rage, pain, and a suffocating helplessness washed over me.
I was wrong. Resisting in this house was feudal. I thought staying was a fight for justice for the gift my parents had given me. But no, it only gave them more ammunition to hurt the ones I loved.
How devastated my father must have been to hear those words. He had lost his life’s work and now he had to endure unspeakable insults from his ex-sonlaw. I didn’t want to imagine it.
I felt so useless. Such a terrible daughter.
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