Chapter 3 - Scorched Earth
The fallout within my family was biblical.
My parents, conservative and strictly traditional, completely disowned Natalie. When she tried to go to their house the morning after the party, my father threatened to call the police. She was pregnant with her sister's husband's best friend's baby. It was a scandal that tore through our social circle like a hurricane.
Marcus, terrified of child support and ruined by the loss of his friendship with Eric, fled the state. He transferred branches at work and blocked Natalie’s number.
Two weeks later, I sat in my lawyer’s opulent office. Across the mahogany table sat Eric, looking like he hadn't slept in a decade. He had lost his job. He was facing potential criminal charges for embezzlement. He was currently sleeping on his brother's couch.
"My client," Eric's cheap attorney began, "is willing to agree to an uncontested divorce. But he requests twenty percent of the marital assets and the dog."
I almost laughed. I looked at Grant, who was sitting in the corner of the room as my security consultant. Grant gave me a subtle nod.
"No," I said.
"Be reasonable," Eric pleaded, his voice breaking. "I have nothing. Natalie ruined my life. She tricked me. I love you, I always loved you. I made a mistake."
"A mistake is forgetting to buy milk, Eric. A mistake is not accidentally falling into my sister's bed for eight months." I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the table. "You will get zero percent. You will sign over the car. And if you ever mention my dog again, I will release the rest of the photos Grant took of you in Brooklyn to the local newspaper."
Eric swallowed hard. His lawyer whispered something in his ear.
"Where is Natalie anyway?" I asked, feigning casual interest.
"I don't know," Eric spat, his face twisting with genuine hatred. "I haven't spoken to her since the party. She's dead to me."
The irony was delicious. They had destroyed my marriage for a "love" that hadn't even survived a 24-hour reality check.
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Eric signed the papers. He didn't even read the last page. As he stood up to leave, he looked at me one last time. "You're cold," he whispered. "You have ice in your veins."
"No," I replied, stacking the signed documents. "I just know how to win a war."
