Keeping The Eight Million For Myself

The moment my husband crushed his third cigarette into the crystal ashtray and told me he wanted a divorce, the smell of bleach hit me like a physical blow.

It was a phantom scent, a sensory ghost from a future that hadn't happened yetor rather, a past life that had already ended. It was the smell of the ten years Id spent playing nurse to him in sterile hospital rooms. It was the smell of the air in my daughters lungs when she pointed a finger at me and called me a "sinner." It was the suffocating, desperate smell trapped inside my oxygen mask as I lay dying, listening to the news that my ex-husband had just married the young girl who used to be our maid.

Now, sitting across from me, Richards voice was strained, caught between guilt and a perverse kind of excitement. "Ive fallen in love with her, Elena. One of Natalies classmates. Its... its the real thing."

I stared at the unopened pack of nicotine gum on the coffee table. Id bought it last year after the doctor warned him about his blood pressure. What a waste of money.

"Okay," I said. My voice sounded light, airy, as if I were discussing someone elses weather.

In my previous life, this was the moment I had shattered our wedding photos. I had screamed, wept, and demanded to know how he could do this to our daughter, to our twenty-five years of history.

And what did that get me? The girl was sent abroad by her parents, Richard spiraled into a pit of whiskey and self-pity, and eventually, he collapsed from a stroke at a business dinner. I was the one who pushed his wheelchair through a decade of physical therapy. I wore through seven pairs of shoes walking him back to health, only for him to stand on his own two feet and immediately slap a divorce settlement in front of me.

Even our daughter, Natalie, had turned on me then. "Its your fault, Mom! If youd just let go ten years ago, Dad wouldnt have wasted a decade. You ruined my career, my futureeverything!"

The day they kicked me out of the house, I was coughing up blood at the gates of the subdivision, scrolling through their Instagram posts celebrating "the new family."

But now, the morning sun was filtering through the blinds, and Richard was waiting for my explosion.

I picked up the pen and flipped to the last page of the agreement. "I want the old cottage in the valley. You can keep the rest."

Richard froze. The expression on his face was identical to the one hed worn in my past life when Id refused to sign.

It was perfect. This time, I wasn't saving him. I was saving myself.

He snapped his head up, eyes wide with disbelief. "What? Say that again."

I picked up a piece of the braised pork Id made for lunch and chewed slowly. "I said fine. Well split the liquid assets fifty-fifty. You have a problem with that?"

He narrowed his eyes, his mind clearly racing to find the trap. He remained silent.

I scooped a large portion of rice into my bowl and started eating with an appetite I hadn't felt in years. In my last life, I had starved myself for three days after he told me. I had withered away until the sickness took me.

Not this time. This time, I was going to be well-fed.

Richard let out a long, theatrical sigh, the "burdened intellectual" persona sliding back into place. "Elena, Im being serious. I love Skye. And she loves me."

"Despite the twenty-five-year age gap, our souls are... intertwined. As my partner for the first half of my life, I expect you to respect my journey. I want your blessing."

I nodded, mouth full. "Sure. Im pretty sick of your journey anyway."

He blinked. Then, a flicker of genuine surpriseand reliefcrossed his face.

"Youre... youre not just saying that? Youre not planning to make a scene at the university?"

I just kept eating.

He began to rub his hands together, his excitement becoming palpable. "Good. Im glad youve reached this level of maturity. Youve spent twenty years by my side; I suppose some of my refinement was bound to rub off on you."

"Listen," he continued, his voice dropping into that condescending 'professor' tone, "well divide the assets into three. One for you, one for me, and one for Natalie. Its more than fair."

"Im staying with Dad," Natalie said suddenly. She had been slumped on the sofa, scrolling through her phone, pretending not to listen. "He can manage my share of the money."

Richard let out a booming laugh. "See? Thats my girl! Honestly, Elena, this is a great deal for you. Youve been a housewife for two decades. You haven't exactly 'contributed' to the household income. Youve lived off me for twenty years. You should be grateful for a third."

Natalie waved her phone at me, a cruel smirk on her face. "Mom, I just recorded you agreeing to the divorce. Don't even think about backing out."

I looked at my daughter.

There was still a dull ache in my chesta vestigial remain of maternal instinct. This was the girl I had raised. I used to think we were a team.

In my first life, when Richard asked for the divorce, my first thought had been her. She was applying for grad school, and she needed her fathers connections and financial backing. I knew Richard. If I divorced him then, he would have cut her off to spend every cent on his new muse.

So I endured. I stayed in a dead marriage, making myself small and pathetic just to ensure she had a bridge to her future.

And how did she repay me? By leaving me to rot in a rural shack without so much as a bag of rice. By ignoring my calls when I was too sick to stand.

When I finally reached her on the phone, she had said: "Just die already, Mom. People like you don't contribute anything to society anyway. You're just wasting oxygen."

Recalling those words, I smiled thinly at her. "Don't worry, Natalie. I won't fight your father for you. Even if you wanted to come with me, I wouldn't take you."

Her face shifted, the smirk faltering for a microsecond before hardening into a sneer. "Please. As if Id ever go with you. What could you possibly do for me?"

"Skye is my best friend," she continued, her voice rising in a defensive trill. "When she marries Dad, well be closer than ever. She has a Masters degree, shes beautiful, she actually matches Dads intellect. When you stand next to him, you look like his housekeeper."

She stuck her tongue out at me, a childish gesture from a twenty-year-old woman. "Im going to be surrounded by culture and sophistication now. I don't need you."

She threw her fork onto the table and sauntered back to her room.

I looked around the room. I looked at the half-eaten meal Id cooked, the laundry drying on the balcony that Id washed, the houseplants I watered because she forgot, the pet turtle shed cried for and then never fed once.

I had done everything for her. And in her eyes, it was worth nothing because it wasn't 'intellectual.' Her father was a professor, so even when he did nothing, he was a giant. I was a mother, so even when I did everything, I was trash.

Fine. I didn't want this ungrateful ghost of a daughter anymore.

After lunch, I walked out the door.

At the bottom of the stairs, I ran into Richard and Skye. They weren't even trying to hide it anymore. They were walking up the path, fingers intertwined, looking like a sickeningly sweet couple in a jewelry commercial.

I walked past them as if they were invisible.

"Mrs. Miller!" Skye called out.

She was beaming, that youthful, predatory glow radiating off her. "Are you heading out?"

She leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "You might want to stay out late. Id hate for you to come home and see something... upsetting. You know, like this."

She pressed her lips to Richards in a bold, wet kiss. Richard looked slightly uncomfortable, his eyes darting around to see if any neighbors were watching, but he didn't pull away.

Skye pulled back, a glint of malice in her eyes. "Oh, and Mrs. Miller? Richard said hes buying me a villa in the hills. Do you even know what a villa looks like? Youve probably never stepped foot in one."

She winked. "Maybe after the divorce, you can come over and be our cleaning lady. At least then youd get to see how the other half lives."

I remembered the first day I met Skye. She had seemed so sweet, so harmless. She told me she wanted to go into academia and asked if my husband could tutor her.

By the third week of "tutoring," I had heard her moans through the office door.

"I just love mature men with authority," she had whispered.

In my last life, I fought to keep them apart. This time? I was going to help them find their "happily ever after." After all, I had what I needed.

I hailed a taxi and went straight to a local labor agency. I hired six strong men and drove two hours out to the countryside, to the old farmhouse my parents had left me.

It was overgrown with weeds, abandoned for over a decade. It was the place where I had died in my previous life.

In that life, Natalie had shoved me into the dirt here and laughed. "Guess what, Mom? Dad had eight million dollars stashed away in a private account the whole time. Bribes, 'consulting fees,' cash gifts from students' parents... all of it. He hid the cash in the floorboards of this dump because he knew youd never look here."

Eight million dollars.

He hadn't touched a cent of it when he was paralyzed. Hed let me work three jobs to pay for his medicine while Natalie spent his pension on designer shoes. And the moment he recovered, hed dug it up to buy Skye a new life.

He wouldn't even give me ten thousand for my surgery.

Well. This time, I was the one with the shovel.

After securing the "inheritance," I took a week-long solo trip to the coast. I spent money on things Id always denied myselfexpensive wine, silk sheets, a spa treatment that made my skin feel like a human's again.

Richard sent me a barrage of texts every day.

[Im sick of seeing your junk in the hallway. Get back here and move your stuff out!]

[How long are you going to hide? We need to sign the final papers.]

When I finally returned, the neighbors stared. I looked rested. I looked younger.

"Going through a divorce suits you, Elena!" one of them joked.

I laughed. "It turns out not taking care of a grown man is the best skincare routine there is."

We lived on the second floor. I looked up and saw Skye on the balcony, looking down at us with a scowl.

I walked into the apartment and realized my slippers were gone. Whatever. I didn't need them.

The place was transformed. Every piece of furniture Id picked out was gone. Even the curtains had been replaced with something tacky and over-the-top.

Skye walked out of the kitchen, looking smug. "I threw your stuff out, Elena. Your taste was... depressing. I hope you don't mind. Youre leaving anyway, right?"

I remained calm. "Actually, I like it. It saves me the trouble of looking at things Im tired of."

Her smile faltered. Young girls are so impatient; they expect you to crumble. "Listen to me, you old hag! Richard doesn't want you! Look at these!"

She pointed to the walls. Our wedding photos had been replaced by glossy shots of her and Richard. There was a "family" portrait of Richard, Skye, and Natalie.

"There's no room for you here anymore," she hissed.

I glanced at the photos. "Technically, we haven't finalized the paperwork. Legally, Im still his wife. And legally, this is still my home."

"So what? He doesn't love you! Youre nothing!" she screamed, her voice echoing through the apartment building.

Just then, the front doorwhich Id left ajarwas pushed open. A middle-aged couple rushed in, faces flushed with rage.

"Skye!" the man roared.

Skye turned white. "Mom? Dad? What are you doing here?"

She looked at me, realization dawning. "You! You called them!"

Before she could finish, her father stepped forward and slapped her across the face. "We worked ourselves to the bone to put you through school, and you spend your time breaking up a marriage? Youre coming home right now!"

Richard walked in from work at that exact moment. He tried to play the 'distinguished professor,' tried to "reason" with them.

Skyes father didn't want to talk. He chased Richard around the living room, swinging his briefcase until Richard was cowering behind the sofa with a bloody nose.

After they dragged a screaming Skye out of the apartment, Richard wiped his face and looked at me with pure hatred. "Were going to the courthouse this afternoon. I am giving Skye the life she deserves, and you are not going to stop me!"

I smiled. "You think you can handle her parents?"

"Thats my business! Just sign the papers!"

I shook my head slowly. "Ive been thinking. I don't think I want a divorce anymore."

Richards face contorted. "What did you say?"

I shrugged. "You were right, Richard. Im just a housewife. Skye said Id end up as a cleaning lady. Why would I want that? Ill just stay here. You can do whatever you want with whoever you want, but Im keeping the title of Mrs. Miller."

He slammed his hand on the table, his face turning a dark, dangerous purple. "You will sign!"

It was the same look hed given me in the other life. The same entitlement.

"Richard," I said quietly, "Youre a professor. Youre supposed to be good at logic. Tell me, what have I gained from this marriage?"

"Have I gained wealth? Jewels? A life of ease? No. Ive gained the labor of raising your child, the stress of managing your home on a pittance, and a daughter who treats me like dirt."

He stared at me, his bravado leaking away. He opened his mouth, then closed it.

"I... I offered you a third of the money," he muttered.

I set my tea down. "You have eighteen thousand dollars in your savings account. A third is six thousand. How long is that supposed to last me? I don't even have a place to live."

"This apartment is my pre-marital property!" he shouted.

"Exactly," I replied. "Divorce is a bad deal for me. So, Ive decided I don't care. Go play with your student. Im staying."

"Youre being unreasonable! Greedy! Youre a small-minded, petty woman! Marrying you was the greatest mistake of my life!"

I didn't blink. "Get her things out of my house. If I have to do it, Im throwing them off the balcony."

I walked into the master bedroom and started hushing Skyes designer bags into the hallway. Natalie came home and screamed at me, calling me every name in the book.

I put on my noise-canceling headphones and started a movie.

At dinner, the two of them sat at the table, staring at me with thunderous expressions.

"Wheres dinner?" Richard demanded.

I arched an eyebrow. "Are you joking? After the way you've treated me, you think Im cooking for you?"

I picked up my takeout and went into my room, locking the door.

This went on for three days. Finally, Natalie snapped.

"I can't take it anymore, Dad! Just give her what she wants!"

"The house is old anyway, and the savings are nothing! Let her have them! Im sick of her cooking, and Im sick of her face!"

"Skye will cook for us once we move into the villa! Just do it, Dad! Her parents are trying to marry her off to someone in another state!"

Five minutes later, there was a knock on my door.

"Fine," Richard spat through the wood. "The house, the savingsyou can have it all. Just sign the damn papers."