The Truth Surfaces
Matt’s face drained from panic to dread.
We’d been married nearly two decades. Our son was at Columbia on scholarship—Matt had nothing to do with it.
While he chased younger women, I scaled my company to over 300 employees.
“Matt owns nothing,” I said evenly. “Not this house, not the cars, not even the bed you two were just in. Everything here is mine.”
Brittany’s eyes widened. “Wait—he told me everything was his. That it was all in his name.”
I chuckled. “He probably never mentioned the prenup. It says he leaves with exactly what he came in with. Which was a leased Honda Civic and about $3,000 in student loans.”
Matt’s face went pale, like milk left out too long. His illusion collapsed.
