The Breakup Specialist

My job is unusual. I break people up for a living.
Not the legal kindthats what lawyers are for. I handle the messy, emotional fallout that comes before the paperwork is signed.
They say love is priceless, but men and women who just whispered I love you to their partners can place a six-figure order with me seconds later.
Take right now, for instance. A text from my husband, Andrew, just lit up my phone. Hes asking if Id prefer Paris or Singapore for our wedding anniversary.
And a second later, a young woman with a delicate, pretty face walked into my office.
She was timid, gathering her courage before she finally spoke. "I'd I'd like to place an order. For my boyfriend. He's decided to divorce his wife."
I kept my face neutral and picked up the client intake form. And then I saw the name.
Andrew Cole.
My hand froze for a fraction of a second. The girl across from me, head bowed, continued in a small voice, "My boyfriend says his wife is a good person, so he doesn't want to hurt her."
A dry smile touched my lips. I stared at the photo on the format Andrew's face, a face so familiar it had somehow become a stranger's.
It was a bitter thought.
In my third year as a breakup specialist, Id finally received my own case.
1
I set the file down and took a proper look at the girl.
Jenna.
She wasn't as beautiful as me, merely pretty in a fragile, unassuming way. Slendershe'd definitely never had a child. She carried an air of inexperience, but her clothes and speech suggested a good education. When she mentioned being the other woman, her eyes darted away, a flicker of what looked like shame.
"Ms. Thorne," she began, her voice gaining a little confidence, "what would you recommend for a situation like mine? My boyfriend said it would be best if if the woman initiated the divorce herself. They've been together a long time, you see. It would be awkward."
She bit her lip, offering a shy, almost innocent smile. If I wasn't absolutely certain she didn't recognize me, I would have thought she was mocking me to my face.
I stretched my lips into a professional smile. "Ms. Bird," I said, using her last name from the form, "how long have you and he been together?"
The question seemed to catch her off guard. "What?"
I raised my voice slightly, keeping it steady. "Before I can propose a strategy, I need to understand every detail of your relationship."
Understanding dawned on her face. She nodded, her voice as bright and cheerful as a songbird's. But with every word she spoke, another piece of my smile chipped away.
"We've been together for three years. We met at the hospital."
She blushed, a soft pink dusting her cheeks. "His family member was having surgery, something serious, I think. He was so scared, just smoking in the hallway. I was passing by and well, I said a few words to comfort him." She gave a self-conscious laugh. "We got to talking, and less than a week later, he asked me to be his girlfriend."
As I listened to her sweet recollection, a sharp, violent pain lanced through my chest.
"Was the day you met today?" I asked, my voice dangerously calm.
Her eyes widened in disbelief. "Yes! How did you know?"
I managed a faint smile, my eyelashes trembling as I looked down.
Of course, I knew. Because three years ago today, I was at City General, giving birth to my first and only child with Andrew.
Doing the math, while he was meeting her in a hospital hallway, I was on an operating table. A difficult labor that turned into an emergency C-section.
I had passed out three times.
The memory, once a testament to my strength, now felt like a dose of slow-acting poison, spreading through my veins. I took a silent, deep breath and forced myself to ask the next question.
"Are you aware that he has a child? A daughter. She's three, just started preschool."
"Of course," she said, the timidity on her face replaced by a casual shrug. "What about it?"
"He's already promised me," she continued, "that after the divorce, I'll be her new mom. She's just a little kid, you know? They don't really know the difference. Over time, she'll accept whoever is there. Don't you think so, Ms. Thorne?"
My knuckles turned white as I gripped the file. I nodded, my voice betraying nothing. "Yes. You're right."
Too bad you'll never get the chance.
My agreement seemed to open the floodgates. She leaned forward, eager to share more, to brag. "He even showed me a picture of his wife. She has this long scar on her stomach it's hideous. He told me himself, every time he sees it, it makes him physically sick."
She paused, then looked at me conspiratorially. "Ms. Thorne, what do you think is wrong with that woman? With a scar that ugly, why would she cling to a man who doesn't want her? Is she that desperate for love?"
A small, cruel laugh escaped her lips.
I laughed too, but my eyes were glacial. "Is it possible that his wife never knew any of this?"
Jenna raised an eyebrow, her tone absolute. "Impossible. He has a physical aversion to her. You'd have to be an idiot not to notice that. You have no idea, Ms. Thorne. With me, he's so passionate, so alive. He says he's been starving at home, completely uninterested in his frumpy wife. I mean, if it were you, wouldn't you find it strange? Three years without being intimate with your husband?"
"Strange," I answered instantly. My gaze was numb, fixed on the platinum wedding band I hadn't taken off in four years.
Andrew and I came from different worlds. My family had money; his didn't. Yet we'd made it, from college sweethearts to the wedding aisle, eight years of history between us.
When I was sick, he'd literally jumped from a second-story dorm window to get me medicine in the middle of the night. When I was sad, he'd run across town to find the one bakery that made my favorite macarons, just to see me smile. He was there for every ultrasound, every doctor's appointment. Every time he came home, the first thing he did was hug our daughter, Lily, and me, telling us we were his everything.
Even his excuse for our separate beds these past two years had been wrapped in a blanket of care. "Leslie," he'd said, stroking my hair, "you went through so much bringing Lily into the world. I could never put you through that again."
I thought it was just what happened to marriage. That the fire cools to a quiet, steady warmth.
How could I have known? It wasn't that he'd lost his appetite. It was that he was eating out.
A chill crept up from the soles of my feet and settled deep in my bones. I asked my final question.
"What are your exact requirements for the separation? Is it just that the wife has to be the one to file for divorce?"
Jenna shook her head. "Of course not. And most importantly, you can't let her find out he was cheating. I know people think he married into money, but he's worked so hard to build his own career. He's been through so much. If she finds out he had an affair, she'll never let go. She'll destroy him."
I flexed my fingers, saying nothing.
She wasn't reassured. She leaned in, her voice a conspiratorial whisper, repeating her instructions. Finally, she sat back. "Ms. Thorne, I know you're the best breakup specialist in the city. I'm counting on you and my boyfriend to handle this."
I nodded, a practiced smile fixed on my face. "Don't worry."
The moment the door clicked shut behind her, I picked up my phone. I didn't call Andrew. I called my oldest friend.
"Get me the best PI and the best lawyer from your firm. I want a complete rundown of Andrew Cole's life for the past three years. Everything." I took a breath. "And while you're at it, give my father a call. Tell him Andrew's cheating. It's time to pull our family's investments."
I leaned back in my chair, the leather cool against my skin.
"Let's see what he has left when he's standing on his own."
My friend, my most trusted partner, was ruthlessly efficient. Less than half a day later, a 128-gigabyte flash drive landed on my desk.
"It's all in there," he said. "Brace yourself."
I slid the drive into my laptop. Click.
The first video opened. A high-end restaurant, bathed in soft, golden light. Andrew, dapper in a black designer suit, presented a massive bouquet of 9,999 imported roses to the woman across from him. Jenna.
Three months ago, for my birthday, Andrew claimed he was swamped at work. He came home with a single, sad-looking rose he'd bought from a street vendor for five bucks.
The next file was security footage from a luxury department store. Andrew's arm was wrapped possessively around Jenna's waist as they shopped. Designer clothes, fine jewelry shopping bags piled up at her feet like a monument to his affection.
A small stuffed animal, a free gift from the cashier at checkout, was the same one he'd brought home for our daughter Lily's birthday.
Expressionless, I closed the file and opened the next.
Three years of Andrew's bank statements.
Massive sums of money bounced between several accounts, the cumulative total so large it made my chest ache. The final destination for it all was a private account ending in 7761.
The account holder: Jenna Bird.
He'd been funneling money to her under the guise of "consulting fees," quietly siphoning off our assets. Did he really think I was that stupid? That I wouldn't notice?
The cold in my heart felt like it was freezing me from the inside out. I clicked on the next file.
It was a folder of screenshots. Text messages between Jenna and Lily's preschool teacher.
Posing as "Lily's Mom," Jenna had been relentlessly asking about my daughter's daily lifewhat she ate, when she napped, who her friends were. She had even arranged with Andrew to attend the next parent-teacher conference together, as a couple.
My hand clenched the mouse so tightly my knuckles cracked. It wasn't just sadness anymore. It was a white-hot, protective rage.
He had dragged our daughter into his sordid affair.
I remembered when Lily was born, how he was the one who got up for every 2 a.m. feeding, rocking her back to sleep. He promised me that no matter what, she would always be our little princess, always loved, always protected.
Even this morning, when Jenna had nonchalantly mentioned becoming Lily's new mother, a small, foolish part of me had felt a flicker of relief. At least Andrew still cared about his child. At least he wouldn't hurt her in a divorce.
Now, I felt like a gaping wound had been torn open in my chest, with an icy wind howling through it.
I couldn't stop myself. I grabbed my phone, my fingers flying, ready to send him a furious message, to warn him to stay the hell away from my daughter.
But before I could, a notification popped up. A message from Jenna.
She'd sent me a selfie, a mirror shot of her in a new dress. The text read: Ms. Thorne, what do you think of this outfit? My boyfriend is taking me and his daughter to meet his parents tonight! I'm so nervous!
At the exact same moment, a text from Andrew appeared.
Hey honey, my parents are missing Lily. I'm going to take her over to their place for dinner tonight.
It was followed by a second message. You've been working so hard. I bought you a movie ticket for tonight. Go relax and enjoy yourself.
He'd even attached a picture of Lily smiling, taken just moments ago as she left preschool.
Looking at my daughter's innocent, trusting face, a slow, dangerous smile spread across my own.
A movie? The family dinner sounds far more entertaining.
If he's introducing the new girlfriend to the family, then shouldn't the wife be there to offer her opinion?
I hung up and got in my car, heading straight for the family estate. On the way, Andrews texts kept coming.
Honey, did you make it to the theater? Looks like theres a big event at the mall today, did you see it?
He was checking up on me.
I wasnt worried. I did a quick search for the mall's events, took a screenshot, and sent it back.
Yeah, saw it. It's pretty crowded.
My reply was curt, but it seemed to put him at ease.
Okay, babe. Have fun. Love you.
The same sweet words he always used. They turned to ash in my mouth. I put my phone away and didn't reply.
When I arrived, I slipped on a hat and a mask and entered the property quietly through a side gate. The party was already in full swing. Nearly all of Andrew's relatives were there.
His mother was beaming, flitting about like the perfect hostess. Her attentive, doting manner reminded me of how she'd been before Andrew and I were married. She used to treat me like her own daughter. When she knew my constitution was weak, she'd drive to a farm upstate to buy organic chickens for soup; when I was cold, she'd knit me scarves and slippers. She even remembered my father had a sensitive stomach and would brew special herbal remedies for him.
Even my own father, a man who'd seen everything in the business world, was won over. "The Coles are good people," he'd told me. "I can rest easy with you marrying into their family."
But now, as Andrew walked in with a radiant Jenna on his arm, his mother was the first to rush forward.
"This must be Jenna! Oh, you're just as lovely as Andrew said. You can tell you're a good girl." She turned to her son. "Andrew, you better treat her right. No bullying, you hear?"
His father, usually so stern and reserved, put down his newspaper and clapped Andrew on the shoulder, a look of deep satisfaction on his face. "Good eye, son. She looks strong. Healthy. It's about time the Cole family had a woman who can give us a son."
And just like that, I understood. All this time, they resented me for having a daughter. They wanted an heir to carry on the family name.
Jenna seemed to bask in the approval. She subtly pushed her hips forward and said in a sweet, girlish voice, "Don't you worry, Mr. and Mrs. Cole. Andrew took me to the doctor. Everything is in perfect working order. I can definitely give you a grandson."
"Wonderful! Just wonderful!"
His parents were overjoyed, practically fighting over who could give Jenna a gift first. In their excitement, they pushed my daughter, Lily, aside like she was a piece of furniture.
The other relatives swarmed them, showering Jenna with compliments.
Amid the noise, I heard Andrew's unclea man to whom I'd "loaned" over two hundred thousand dollars over the yearsclap his hands and roar with laughter. "That's my boy! Now that's a true Cole man!"
His auntthe one for whom I'd pulled every string I had to get her daughter into a university abroadwas dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief. "Oh, this is such a relief. I liked Jenna the moment I saw her. She has a good, solid feel about her."
And his younger brotherwhose failed startups I had repeatedly bailed out with my family's connectionsstood up to raise a toast. "To my brother and my new sister-in-law! To a long and happy life, and may you have a son soon!"
Every single one of them. Every person in that room had taken something from memy help, my money, my kindness.
And now, not one of them remembered my name. It was as if I had never existed.
The aunt, after wiping her tears, grabbed my three-year-old daughter and pushed her in front of Jenna. "Well, what are you waiting for, sweetie?" she urged. "Say hi to your new mommy!"
"Yes, yes," his mother chimed in, suddenly remembering Lily. She took my daughter's hand and tried to press it into Jenna's. "Lily, go on. Call her 'Mama'."
Lily looked at the circle of strange, eager faces, her own face filled with terror. She shook her head violently. "No! She's not my mommy! My mommy's name is Leslie! Grandma, I want my mommy."
Her small voice trembled. "Can you please call my mommy to come get me?"
She thought her grandmother would save her.
But the warmth vanished from her grandmother's face, replaced by a cold fury. She grabbed Lily's ear and twisted, hard. "You stupid girl, what nonsense are you spouting? She is your mother now. Say it!"
Andrew's father scowled at Lily, his disgust plain. "Andrew, is this how you've raised her? With no manners?"
Jenna bit her lip, looking faint, and collapsed dramatically into Andrew's arms. "Andrew," she whimpered, "I don't think Lily likes me."
He wrapped his arms around her, his voice a low, soothing murmur. "Don't be silly. She's just a kid, she doesn't know any better. Once we're married, she'll do whatever you say. I won't interfere."
Standing just outside the patio doors, I had seen enough.
I pushed the doors open and stepped inside.
The chatter died instantly. I looked at the stunned, guilty faces around the room, and let a slow, chilling smile spread across my face.
"Isn't this a family dinner? Why wasn't I, the actual wife, invited?"

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