My Ex Wife Owes Me Billions

I found the burner phone at the bottom of Naomi Caroline's safety deposit box. It wasn't even password-protected.

It took only three seconds to boot up. But those three seconds were all it took to shatter seven years of marriage.

The wallpaper wasnt our wedding photo. It was a candid shot of a young man.

He sat at a piano, his profile soft, almost luminous. Naomi was standing slightly in the shadow, and the depth of affectionthe sheer, suffocating restraintin her eyes was thick enough to drown in.

It was a Naomi I had never seen.

The young man was Liam Lee, a college student Naomi and I had been sponsoring for years.

My hands and feet went numb. I tapped open the Notes app.

[2018, I married Oliver Zachary. He's compliant. Hes suitable for a husband. He makes the family happy. But how... how have I fallen for the scholarship kid?]

[2020, Liam came back. We finally talked. It's real. It's mutual. Seeing him cry, my heart aches.]

[2023, If I get pregnant, Liam will be sad. So, no baby.]

The phone slid from my fingers.

Finally, I understood. Why, in seven years of marriage, Naomi had only conceived once, and why, after that miscarriage, we had never tried again.

Naomi walked in just as I was kneeling on the floor, the old phone clutched in my hand.

She was carrying a box of the best caramel cake from that bakery downtownthe one she knew I loved. The warmth in the room was immediately scattered by the chill she brought in.

When she saw what I was holding, her motion of slipping off her Manolos froze mid-step.

The gentle look shed been wearing instantly evaporated.

Oliver, who told you to go into that safe?

Her voice was sharp, a freezing jab.

No explanation. No panic.

Her first word was an accusation.

I looked up. My eyes felt dry and raw, burning with a pain too deep for tears.

Naomi. Seven years.

My throat was desperately hoarse. I pointed a trembling finger at the screen.

Is everything written here... true?

Naomi strode over, snatched the phone by gripping my wrist, and immediately switched it off. She shoved it deep into her coat pocket, her brow tightly furrowed.

Everyone has a past, Oliver, things they don't want broadcast. Youve crossed a line.

I nearly laughed, my heart clenching with a sickening, rhythmic ache.

Things you dont want broadcast? You hid your feelings for another man right inside the heart of our marriage, and you call that 'things you don't want broadcast'?

You married me just to appease your family? You wouldn't have a child with me because you were afraid Liam would be 'sad'?

Naomi, you're disgusting.

Enough!

Naomi roared, then casually tossed the box of caramel cake onto the coffee table.

The box tilted. Cream smeared across the mahogany.

She took a deep, controlling breath, as if wrestling a beast inside her, and reverted to that cool, ruthlessly rational self.

Liam has a fragile disposition, you know that. Hes too sensitive for conflict.

If we were meant to be, it would have happened long ago, and you wouldn't be in the picture.

I married you because youre suitable, and also... because, she paused, a flicker of annoyance in her eyes, I don't actively dislike you. Have I been a bad wife to you? You had the title of 'Mr. Caroline', a credit card with no limit, everything you asked for was yours.

I looked at the woman standing before me.

Just yesterday, she would wake up instantly if I had a leg cramp in the middle of the night, no matter how deep her sleep, massaging my calf until I fell back asleep.

I thought that was love.

It was all an act. A performance.

I don't actively dislike you

I repeated the words, a dull, hollow thud in my chest.

Naomi, thats your answer to seven years of my life?

She pressed her temples, then reached out to pull me up.

Stop this drama, Oliver. Liam had a frustrating moment at the gallery opening today, and hes upset. I need to go check on him.

Stay here. Cool down.

When youve figured out what you should and shouldn't ask, we can talk.

With that, she turned to leave.

The hem of her cashmere coat brushed my face, carrying a sudden, cold draft.

Naomi!

I shouted at her retreating back, If you walk out that door today, we are getting a divorce!

She paused at the door.

But she didn't turn around.

Oliver, don't threaten me with divorce. Without the Caroline name, you think you'll live this comfortably for long?

Don't be a child. Grow up.

I had a fever.

It must have been the stress, or maybe sitting on the cold marble floor all night.

My temperature hit 103 degrees. I felt like I was simultaneously burning and freezing.

In a semiconscious haze, I automatically reached for Naomi's number.

In the past, even a slight cough would stop her mid-global conference; shed rush home.

This time, the phone rang for a long time.

Hello?

But it wasn't Naomi's voice.

It was Liam. Soft, syrupy, laced with the lazy languor of just waking up.

Oh, Oliver? Naomi's in the shower.

In the shower at Liams place, first thing in the morning?

I clenched my jaw, clinging to the last shred of my control. Put her on.

Oh, Oliver, don't be mad, okay?

Liam let out a soft, little laugh. I accidentally spilled coffee all over Naomi yesterday. You know how much of a germaphobe she is, so she just stayed in the guest room. Shes such a thoughtful caretaker, too. Last night... I was so exhausted, but she took such good care of me.

Every word was a deliberate stab into my chest.

Liam, my voice was shaking, beyond my control. Put her on the phone!

What is it?

Naomis low, slightly scratchy voice came through, thick with sleep.

Then Liams petulant whine: Naomi, Oliver's angry. Hes doing a check-in.

Oliver? Naomis tone instantly turned cold. It's too early for this. What are you playing at?

Hot tears spilled from my eyes, tracking a burning path into my hair.

Naomi, I have a fever. Im really sick... I need to go to the hospital.

Even after seeing those notes, even after the fight yesterday.

In that desperate moment, I clung to a ridiculous, seven-year-old illusion.

Seven years. Surely, even a stray pet earns some loyalty?

There were two seconds of silence on the line.

Then, the sound of clothes rustling. Naomis tone softened, marginally. Whats your temperature?

103 degrees.

Take some Tylenol first. Have the driver take you. Her voice was measured, still calm. Liams painting isn't properly hung yet, and he cant reach. Ill help him finish and then come home.

A painting wasn't hung yet.

I was burning up, close to passing out, and my wife was helping another man hang art.

Naomi I gasped, weak and struggling for breath. If I don't get to the emergency room, I couldIm allergic to penicillin. The house medicine is all out

Ah!

Liams sudden shriek came from the other end.

Followed by the sound of something heavy crashing to the floor.

Liam! What happened?

Naomis voice was instantly saturated with a sheer, panicked urgency she had never shown for me.

My hand... Naomi, the frame hit my hand! It hurts so much Liam was sobbing.

Don't move! Let me see! Its bleeding... Just bear with it, Ill take you to get it bandaged immediately!

Chaos erupted on the line.

I was completely forgotten.

Naomi

I tried to make a sound. To tell her that I hurt, too. That my heart was hemorrhaging.

But the line went dead.

I held the phone, staring up at the glittering chandelier on the ceiling, my vision blurring.

It was crystal clear now. In her world:

A scratch on Liam's finger was a five-alarm emergency.

My high fever and life-or-death crisis was just stop playing at this.

I forced myself up, swaying unsteadily as I tried to get downstairs.

Halfway down the staircase, the world went black.

I lost control and tumbled down the rest of the steps.

A searing pain enveloped me. In the last fragmented moment before consciousness faded.

I saw Naomi at eighteen.

The girl in a white shirt, carrying me on her back across the football field after I twisted my ankle, sweat pouring down her face.

She said: "Oliver, don't be afraid. Ive got you. I will never let you get hurt."

Liar.

Naomi, you are a complete and utter liar.

When I woke up, I was in a hospital bed.

I flexed my fingers. My whole body ached as if Id been dismantled.

Youre awake?

Naomi was sitting by the bed, peeling an apple.

Seeing my eyes open, she cut a small slice and offered it to my mouth, her expression as gentle as if nothing had happened yesterday.

Why so clumsy? You can't even handle a flight of stairs.

Slight concussion, fractured right leg.

Oliver, youre a grown man. Can you please stop making me worry?

Her tone held a mix of scolding and that familiar, high-handed weariness.

I turned my head away, avoiding the apple.

Is Liams finger... bandaged up?

I stared out the window, my voice flat.

Naomi's hand froze mid-air.

Then, she tossed the apple into the trash.

Oliver, how much longer are you going to keep this act up?

Liam was injured while hanging a painting. His hand is his livelihood! You? You just had a fever. Is this really necessary, to nearly kill yourself just for sympathy?

Sympathy?

I spun my head back, locking my gaze on hers.

Naomi, did I not want to go to the hospital?

I begged you to come home, and you said you had to help him hang art!

I was rolling down the stairs, close to death, and you were coddling him, telling him to stop crying!

Sympathy? I risked my life to get your sympathy. You dont deserve it.

Naomi's face darkened instantly.

She stood up, towering over me.

Oliver, watch your tone.

I am your wife.

Not for long. I met her gaze without flinching. Im having the divorce papers drawn up.

You wouldnt dare!

Naomi grabbed my jaw with a force that made me feel my teeth might shatter.

Her eyes were blazing, a mix of fury and an almost stunned disbelief at my defiance.

Oliver, where will you go after the divorce? Back to the Zachary family, who haven't cared about you in a decade? Or sleep on the street?

Everything you have was given by me! Your studio, your connections, the clothes on your back!

Without Naomi Caroline, what are you, Oliver Zachary?

I was once the top student in the Architecture program at A-State.

I had won international design awards.

But for her, to be a good husband, I turned down one project after another, dimmed all my lights, and stayed near the kitCaroline stove.

Now, she asked me what I was.

Then well see.

I pushed her hand away, speaking each word distinctly.

Well see if I starve to death without Naomi Caroline.

Fine. Very well.

Naomi laughed, a brittle, infuriated sound. She smoothed the crease in her sleeve.

Since you have such backbone, lets see you stand tall.

Cancel all his cards. She gave the order to her assistant by the door, her voice icy.

Pull all the funding from his studio projects.

I want to see how many days he lasts.

With that, she slammed the door and left.

From outside, I could vaguely hear Liams voice.

Naomi, don't be angry. Oliver is probably just delirious from the fever... I made you some soup

Youre the only sensible one.

Naomis voice softened, trailing into the distance.

I closed my eyes.

Two hot tears slipped out.

No one came to pick me up on the day of my discharge.

I walked out of the hospital, leaning heavily on a cane, moving one agonizing step at a time.

My cards were canceled. My phone couldn't process a payment.

I searched every pocket and found only a few dozen dollars in loose change.

I hailed a taxi back to the house Naomi and I shared.

Even if I was leaving, I needed my ID and the belongings my parents left me.

I pushed the door open to the sound of laughter.

Liam, wearing my silk pajamas, was curled up on the sofa, feeding Naomi grapes.

Naomi was looking at her tablet, occasionally opening her mouth to accept a grape, her eyes full of doting affection.

When he saw me, Liam tried to jump up awkwardly, only to accidentally tumble into Naomis lap.

Oh! Oliver! You... you're back?

Naomi naturally wrapped an arm around his waist, then looked up at me.

Her eyes were glacial, like I was a stranger.

Decided to come home? I thought you were going to be defiant forever.

I ignored her sarcasm, leaning on my cane and heading straight for the master bedroom upstairs.

Stop.

Naomis voice was frigid.

Who gave you permission to go upstairs?

I paused, turning back. Im getting my things.

There are no 'your things' here.

Naomi idly played with a strand of Liams hair. I had someone throw everything out.

My whole body jerked. I stared at her in disbelief.

Threw them out? Naomi, that included my parents mementos! And all my design sketches!

So what?

Naomi sneered. I told you, this house doesn't keep idle hands, and it certainly doesn't keep garbage.

Liam is moving in. We needed to clear space. Your junk was taking up his new closet.

Junk?

The only pocket watch my parents left me. The blueprints I had stayed up countless nights to draw.

In her eyes, they were just garbage, clutter to be removed to make space for Liam.

Blood rushed to my head. I threw the cane down and lunged up the stairs like a madman.

The walk-in closet was empty.

The racks that held my clothes were now filled with Liams designer pieces.

My desk, my drafting table, all gone.

Replaced by a white grand piano, Liams favorite.

I rushed to the balcony, looking down.

Next to the trash cans in the yard, there were a few black garbage bags piled up.

I could vaguely make out the familiar edge of design paper.

They were soaked through with rain, a mushy mess.

I ran down the stairs, ignoring the searing pain in my leg, and staggered into the yard.

I fell to the ground, tearing open the bags, oblivious to the mud.

Ruined.

Everything was ruined.

I hugged the shattered pocket watch, kneeling in the mud, crying a raw, heartbroken sound.

Naomi Caroline! Youre not human!

Give them back!

Footsteps approached from behind.

Naomi stood under the eaves, holding an umbrella, with Liam nestled close to her.

She frowned slightly, as if my crying was a nuisance.

Oliver, don't act like a hysterical mess.

A few sheets of paper, a broken clock. Whats it worth? Ill write you a check.

Liam burrowed deeper into her embrace, whispering:

Naomi, poor Oliver... did I do something wrong? Maybe I shouldn't move in

Nonsense. This has nothing to do with you.

Naomi kissed him on the cheek.

Hes the one who doesn't know his place. A man who won't learn his lesson should be made to feel the pain.

She raised her gaze, looking at me with icy indifference.

Oliver, for the sake of the past seven years, Ill give you one last chance.

Right now, apologize to Liam.

Say youll never cause trouble again, that youll be a good, obedient husband.

And Ill let you back into this house. You can resume your role.

Otherwise

She nudged the mud puddle with her shoe.

Take your trash and get off my property.

The rain intensified.

The wound on my leg felt like it had torn open, a drilling pain.

But I felt nothing. The cold had vanished.

Because my heart was utterly and completely dead.

Slowly, I stood up from the mud.

Clutching the broken pocket watch to my chest.

I wiped the rain and mud from my face, looking at the perfectly matched couple before me.

And I smiled.

Naomi Caroline.

You think I want to be your obedient husband?

You think I won't survive without you?

I dragged my injured leg, one step at a time, until I stood directly in front of them.

Naomi instinctively recoiled, startled by the sheer hatred in my eyes.

What are you doing?

Slap!

I put every ounce of my remaining strength into a vicious slap across her face.

Naomis head snapped to the side. The imprint of my hand immediately surfaced on her cheek.

Liam shrieked: You hit Naomi!

Shut up! This isnt your place!

I swung my other hand, delivering an equally hard backhand across Liams face.

Liam was stunned, then collapsed onto the ground, covering his cheek and wailing.

Naomi finally registered the attack. She raised her hand in a furious rage. Oliver! Youre looking for death!

I lifted my chin, staring hard at the hand hovering over me.

Hit me!

Naomi Caroline, if you dont kill me today, I promise you, one day, you and he will kneel before me, and I will repay the pain you gave me, a hundredfold!

Naomis hand froze in the air.

She looked into my eyes, and for a fleeting second, I saw a flicker of genuine fear.

I looked at her with cold contempt, spitting out a mouthful of blood and rainwater.

Naomi Caroline, remember what you said today.

I don't know my place. Im a mess.

From this moment on, I cut all ties with you. With the Caroline family. We are done.

Rain mixed with mud streamed down my pants.

I dragged my throbbing right leg, step by painful step, out of the Caroline villa gates.

Behind me, Naomis voice was a furious roar.

Lock the gates! Don't let anyone open them for him!

He won't learn what obedience means until he suffers a little!

The massive iron gate slammed shut behind me.

I stood by the side of the road, soaked to the bone.

But I felt a liberating, unprecedented lightness.

I pulled out my phone. The screen was covered in text alerts: notifications of Naomis bank card cancellations.

A message popped up on WhatsApp. It was from Naomi.

[The cards are canceled. When you learn to apologize, I'll turn them back on. Stay outside for a few days and reflect. Don't expect me to come looking for you.]

Followed immediately by a voice note.

Liam's voice, dripping with feigned concern.

Naomi, don't do this... Oliver is injured and broke. What if something happens to him?

Naomi's cold laughter followed.

Relax. His kind has the vitality of a cockroach. Give him three days, and hell be crawling back on his knees, begging for forgiveness.

I listened without expression.

My finger tapped the screen. Block.

Then, I dialed a number I had sworn, three years ago when I retired for Naomi, I would never call again.