His Ex Got Millions I Got a Prenup

While organizing files in my husband Julian's study, I accidentally found a yellowed gift agreement in the bottom drawer.

It was the breakup compensation Julian had given to his ex-girlfriend, Megan, completely free of charge:

30 million dollars in cash, 2% of his company shares, and the property rights to two downtown office buildings.

Julian and I had been married for seven years, yet before our wedding, he had me sign a cold, impersonal prenuptial agreement.

I had no assets in my name, let alone any involvement in his business. Even this villa we lived in had nothing to do with me.

Just as anger surged through me, Julian appeared at the doorway and snapped at me:

"I told you not to go into my study. You've broken the rules again."

I handed him the gift agreement for his ex-girlfriend and said calmly:

"Julian, let's get a divorce."

He frowned and tore the document in my hands to shreds:

"Just because of this agreement?! Do I need your approval to spend my own money? Besides, this is all in the past."

With that, he didn't spare me another glance and walked out of the study.

As for me, I simply picked up my phone and called my lawyer.

When the divorce lawyer sent over the divorce agreement, she was still trying to talk me out of it:

"Mrs. Weston, are you sure you want to leave with nothing? Even though you signed a prenup, Mr. Weston has always been generous. You could fight for your legal rights."

Hearing the lawyer's words, a bitter smile tugged at my lips.

Legal rights? I actually had nothing.

After we got married, Julian only took a one-dollar salary from the company each month.

The division of company shareshe had made that perfectly clear before we even got married.

All core assets were under his personal name and had nothing to do with me.

The day we got our marriage license, he brought in a professional lawyer as witness, and I faced a thick stack of prenuptial agreements.

Actually, I never thought there was anything wrong with it before.

Julian was a born businessmancalculating, strategic, extremely rational.

Back then, I loved him as a person, not his wealth, so I didn't haggle over any of it.

I even sympathized with how hard it was for him to build his business, always trying to save money so he could invest more in the company.

But it wasn't until I saw how generous he'd been with his ex-girlfriend

that I realized what a fool I'd been.

My chest tightened painfully, but I replied calmly,

"No need. Just proceed with this agreement."

After hanging up with the lawyer, I slipped off my ring:

The engraving inside read "JM."

Only now did I suddenly realizethis was the initials of "Julian and Megan."

This reminded me of three years ago, when I had accidentally left the ring behind at an art exhibition.

When Julian noticed I wasn't wearing my ring, he flew into a rage.

He dragged me to the door. "Why aren't you wearing your ring? Where did you put it?"

The coldness on his face made me panic. I hurriedly explained:

"I went to an art exhibition during the day and accidentally left it in the restroom. The staff said they'd send it over tomorrow."

After hearing my explanation, Julian didn't say anything more that night, but he still sent his assistant to retrieve the ring from the exhibition staff overnight.

Even this villa we lived inhe had originally bought it planning to marry Megan.

Megan had left him, yet she walked away with wealth I could never obtain in my entire life.

What made me jealous wasn't just the unfair distribution of assetsit was his favoritism toward his ex-girlfriend all these years.

For the entire seven days that followed, he barely said a word to me.

He didn't touch the breakfast I prepared.

He didn't even come home for two of those nights.

Thinking of everything that had happened, a wave of numbness and bitterness washed over me.

Afraid tears would spill over, I took off the ring and placed it on the table.

When the lawyer delivered the agreement, I signed my name on the divorce papers without hesitation and left the villa without looking back.

With a friend's help, I quickly found a suitable place to live.

I've never been picky about my surroundings, so that same afternoon I finalized the lease with the landlord.

By the time I finished cleaning, it was already nine o'clock at night.

I planned to go back to the villa to discuss the divorce with Julian face to face.

But I waited until eleven, and Julian still hadn't come home.

I sat blankly in the living room, waiting for him.

At one in the morning, Julian pushed open the door, reeking of alcohol.

Seeing me sitting there, he immediately looked annoyed.

He tossed his suit jacket onto the back of a chair and said coldly,

"Are we going to fight again? I don't have time for this."

As he spoke, he rolled up his shirt sleeves and started walking straight to his room.

He didn't even glance at the divorce agreement I'd left on the table, nor did he say a single unnecessary word to me.

My throat tightened, but I still called out to him,

"Julian, this is the divorce agreement. Please sign it."

Julian's steps faltered slightly. He turned back to look at me with irritation.

"You're still mad about that agreement with my ex? You're my wife now. Can't you be a little more gracious about this?"

Hearing those words, I almost wanted to laugh.

So in Julian's mind, the only reason I wanted a divorce was because he'd given his ex a breakup settlement?

But if it were really just about money, I never would have married him in the first place.

Maybe Julian would never knowfor all four years of college, I had secretly loved him.

I wrote him ninety-nine love letters, but never had the courage to hand him a single one.

Like a humble bystander, I quietly watched everything about him from the sidelines.

It wasn't until after graduation, when my family arranged a blind date for me, that I ran into him again.

At the time, he had just broken up with his girlfriend and looked completely lost.

Even though I knew he might just be using me to fill the void, I still agreed to date him.

I thought people could change. My sincerity would eventually move him.

After we started dating, he rarely took the initiative with me, but he was always polite.

He didn't spend much time with me, but he was willing to watch a movie with me on Valentine's Day.

He'd give me birthday gifts, even though his secretary was the one who picked them out.

But those tiny bits of sweetness were enough to make me feel content.

After a year of dating, we got married.

There was no touching proposal, no romantic wedding.

It was only because his parents pressured him to get married that he agreed to marry me.

Four years of secret love, one year of dating, seven years of marriage.

It was enough. I didn't want to continue anymore.

Fighting back the ache in my chest, I took a deep breath,

"Julian, I really want a divorce."

With that, I stood up first, calm and resolute, and repeated myself,

"So I hope this agreement is signed by tomorrow morning."

After saying this, I walked past him toward the guest room, mimicking his usual cold demeanor, and locked the door behind me.

Julian suddenly shouted angrily behind me,

"Fine then, Sophia! You want a divorce? Great, I'll sign right now. Even if you come crawling back to me on your knees, I won't take you back!"

Soon after, the sound of a door slamming came from the next room.

Listening to the commotion outside, even though I was mentally prepared,

I still felt a sharp, prickling pain spread through my heart.

Maybe Julian had forgottenduring these seven years of marriage, I had begged him countless times.

On our first anniversary after the wedding, I had pleaded with him to go celebrate at the beach.

He agreed readily, but when the time came, he sent a last-minute message saying he had an emergency board meeting that night.

After that, he didn't bother to explain anythinghe just hung up the phone.

Seven years passed, and every year I would ask if he had time to travel abroad with me.

But every year, he said his schedule was too packed.

Just like that, the trip he owed me kept getting postponed again and again.

Actually, I never understood why

even after being married to Julian for years, it always felt like there was an invisible wall between us.

Until that gift agreement surfaced.

Then I finally understoodit was simply because he never cared about me at all.

I had to admit one thing:

Where a man spends his money is where his love lies.

The next morning, Julian was already gone.

All that remained in the living room were the shredded pieces of the divorce agreement scattered across the floor.

Looking at the mess, for a moment, I felt almost dazed.

Maybe Julian wasn't really that heartless toward me after all?

Did he tear up the divorce agreement because he couldn't bear to let me go?

Then my phone buzzed with a new message, snapping me back to reality.

The message was from a woman I didn't know.

A week ago, she had suddenly sent me a friend request on Instagram.

Her verification message read:

"Homewrecker, I'm back. Time to give Julian back to me, don't you think?"

Out of curiosity, I accepted her request.

Since then, she had been sending me all kinds of photos and files.

Photos of Julian with her at a concert.

Screenshots from a video of them watching fireworks together at the beach.

Even photos of them kissing in a parking garage late at night.

She was even the one who tipped me off about that agreement in Julian's study.

This time, she sent me a photo of Julian sleeping in a hotel bed, his face turned to the side.

"I heard you went through Julian's study and found that agreement. So, have you given up yet?"

"By the way, the jewelry Julian left for youI hope you'll have it cleaned and disinfected soon."

"I'm a germaphobe. I don't like other people touching my things."

"The only reason I let Julian marry you in the first place was because you seemed clean enough. Men have needs, you know. Better he uses you than goes out looking for hookers."

"Also, you have three days to get the divorce done. Otherwise, I'm going public with our relationship."

"Don't think Julian will miss you. You have no idea how eager he's been."

"Ever since I came back to the country, he's been coming to see me almost every day. Anyway, I've got to goJulian's waking up. We're about to take a bath together."

The messages stopped there.

And my tears fell one by one onto the keyboard. Through my blurred vision, I forced myself to reply:

"You say you don't like other people touching your things? Well, Julian's been sleeping with me for yearsat least a thousand times by now."

After I sent the message, she didn't respond.

My chest felt suffocated, like punching cotton. That piercing pain shot straight through my heart.

No wonder he stormed out in the middle of the night.

I thought it was because my mention of divorce had upset him.

Turns out he was just rushing off to relive old memories with his ex.

The last thread holding my heart together finally snapped. With trembling fingers, I sent him a message:

"Julian, are you free today? Let's go to City Hall and get this done."

It had been a full half hour since I sent my message, and Julian still hadn't responded. He didn't answer my calls either.

But Megan did send me a voice message.

"Can you stop being so annoying? Why do you keep calling Julian? Don't you know? Julian and I hate being interrupted when we're alone together."

I swallowed my rage and replied:

"I've already asked him for a divorce. If you don't want to stay nameless forever, tell him to come back and sign the papers."

Megan didn't respond.

I had no patience left to wait for Julian's reply.

I called a moving company directly and started packing all my belongings.

Including all the gifts I had given him over the years:

The oil paintings I'd painted for him, the ties and cufflinks I'd bought him...

All of it had been tossed in the storage room like garbage.

Since he didn't want any of it, I'd throw it all awayalong with the heart that once loved him.

Even though I'd lived in this house for seven years, it only took three hours to load everything onto the truck.

As I was about to leave, I couldn't hold back anymoretears streamed down my face once again.

I had just moved into my new apartment and was organizing my things when I received another message from Megan:

"Come over. Julian is in my hotel suite. He's agreed to sign the divorce papers."

Looking at the message, my fingers tightened around the phone.

In the end, I only replied: "Okay."

Before I left, a plan for revenge had already formed in my mind.

I changed into athletic wear and grabbed a camera with a telephoto lens.

Then I took a taxi straight to the hotel address Megan had sent me.

She had humiliated me for an entire month.

It was time for her to experience what humiliation felt like.

Even if it meant Julian would be furious. Even if we'd both go down in flames.