After enduring years of a marriage where Mike was fixated on wealth and material possessions, Nicole shocks everyone by willingly handing over everything in their divorce. As Mike revels in what he believes is his triumphant “win,” Nicole’s laughter subtly reveals a well-crafted plan that’s about to take shape. What Mike has yet to discover is that Nicole’s hidden strategy is about to come into play.

I walked out of the lawyer’s office with a blank face, slumped shoulders, looking like the classic image of a defeated ex-wife. The rain was pouring down, and the gloomy sky matched the mood I wanted to project.
But inside, I was buzzing with excitement. My fingers gripped the cold steel handle of the door as I made my way to the elevator. There was no one around, which was perfect.

As soon as the elevator doors shut behind me with a soft ding, I let out a small giggle. It wasn’t something I had planned, it just bubbled out from deep inside, like champagne escaping after a bottle is popped.

The more I thought about what I had just done, the more the laughter built up until I was practically cackling in the elevator like someone who had finally snapped.
If anyone had seen me, they probably would have thought I had lost it from all the stress. But no, this was just the start. Everything was going exactly how I had hoped.

The house, the car, the savings—Mike could have all of it. That was precisely what I wanted. He believed he’d won, and that was the best part. He didn’t have the faintest clue about what was coming next.

It was all an act, and I had been playing my part for way too long. The cracks had started to show, and as our fights became more frequent, I knew the end was near.
But I wasn’t afraid of the divorce. I knew Mike well enough to know exactly how things would play out.

He wasn’t interested in saving our marriage. No, all he wanted was to win—to win the house, the money, and the divorce itself.
All I wanted was to be free of that shallow, materialistic life. But I wasn’t about to let him take advantage of me, either. So, I decided to let Mike think he was getting what he wanted, with a little twist he wouldn’t see coming.
It happened one Tuesday. Mike came home late, as usual. I was in the kitchen, pretending to scroll through my phone, not bothering to look up when he came storming in.

“We need to talk.”
I sighed, not even bothering to hide how uninterested I was. “What now?”
He slammed his keys onto the counter, and I could feel his frustration filling the room. He always got like this when things weren’t going his way at work, and naturally, I was the easiest target for his anger.

“I’m done,” he said, his voice strained with tension. “I want a divorce.”
I blinked up at him, calm on the outside but ready for this. I’d been preparing for this moment for weeks.
“Okay,” I responded casually.

He looked at me, surprised. “That’s it? No argument? No begging?”

I shrugged. “What’s the point?”
For a second, he seemed thrown off, like I had just taken the fight out of him. He clearly expected me to plead with him to stay.

But I was just giving him enough space to hang himself.
The divorce negotiations were exactly as terrible as I had imagined. We sat across from each other in a lifeless conference room, lawyers on either side, while Mike rattled off all the things he wanted. The house, the car, the savings—it was like he was listing groceries.
And through it all, he had this smug little grin on his face, like he thought I was going to break down in tears at any second.

“Fine,” I said, barely paying attention. “You can have it all.”
My lawyer shot me a look that clearly said, “Are you sure?” But I just nodded.
Mike blinked. “Wait, what?”

“I said, you can have it. I don’t want any of it, except my personal things.”

He stared at me, stunned. “You… you don’t want the house? Or the money?”
“Nope,” I replied, leaning back in my chair. “It’s all yours.”

His shock turned into sheer joy. “Great. Then take this afternoon to pack up your stuff. It’s not much, so that should be plenty of time.” Mike glanced at his watch. “I’ll expect you to be out by six.”
“No problem,” I said.
He sat up straighter, puffing out his chest like he had just hit the jackpot. And I let him believe it.

Which brings us back to that moment in the elevator, where I finally allowed myself to laugh.As I stepped out of the elevator, I grabbed my phone. My fingers hovered for a moment before I typed a quick message: I’m heading to the house to pack up my things. I’ll call you when it’s time to make your move.
I hit send and smiled. Now the real fun was about to start.

Packing up the house wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be. I didn’t want much, just a few personal items, mostly things that held memories that weren’t ruined by Mike. The house always felt too big anyway, and it never really felt like mine.

As I sealed the last box, I picked up the phone to make the call. My mom, Barbara, answered after two rings.
“Hey,” I said, trying to keep my tone casual. “It’s time.”

There was a pause, then Mom’s usual, no-nonsense voice came through. “Finally. I’ve been waiting for this moment.”
Mom never liked Mike. She saw right through his flashy act the very first time they met. The best part? She helped us buy this house. Mike thought he was getting a great deal, and now, thanks to her, he’s about to lose it.
I hung up, feeling lighter as I glanced around. No more pretending.

The next morning, as I was making breakfast in my new apartment, my phone rang. Mike’s name flashed on the screen, and I couldn’t help but smirk.
“Hello?” I answered sweetly.
“You set me up!” Mike’s voice was livid, practically shaking with rage.

I switched the phone to speaker mode and took a bite of toast. “I’m sorry, what are you talking about?”

“Your mother!” he growled. “She’s… she’s in my house! She’s taken over everything!”
“Oh, right,” I said, as I chewed. “Remember that little agreement we signed when she gave us the down payment? The one that lets her live there whenever she wants, for as long as she wants?”

There was a long pause, and I could almost hear the wheels turning in his head. I could picture the exact moment he realized what was going on.
He had signed that paper years ago, too excited about the fancy house to even read the fine print carefully.
“You! You tricked me! This isn’t over. I’ll get my lawyers—”

Before he could finish, I heard my mom’s voice, clear and sharp through the phone. “Michael, you better get your feet off that coffee table! And stop hogging the remote!”
There was a rustling noise, as if Mike had turned away from the phone to mutter something. “Barbara, this is my house—”
“Oh, hush,” Mom cut him off, her voice louder now. “It’s my house too. And another thing, these snacks are awful. Do you even know how to grocery shop? I’m not surviving on frozen dinners!”

I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing out loud. Mike mumbled something, still barely holding back his frustration, but before he could say anything else, Mom’s voice cut through again.
“And turn down that ridiculous TV! You think I want to listen to that nonsense all day? If you’re going to watch those silly car shows, at least turn the volume down!”
There was a loud crash, followed by more grumbling, and then the phone call abruptly ended. I leaned back, taking a deep breath and smiling as I sat at the table.

Freedom never felt so sweet.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.