26 On my wedding night, my mother-in-law threw a bucket of dirty underwear belonging to all the men in the family at me and said, “You’re the wife now. It’s your job to wash it.”

At 7:00 AM, my phone began to buzz furiously on the nightstand.

I picked it up. It was Jonathan. I let it ring until it went to voicemail, then watched as three text messages popped up in quick succession.

Jonathan: Charlotte, where the hell are you? You left your bags at my mom’s house. Stop throwing a temper tantrum and come back. My mom is willing to forgive you if you apologize for throwing that water on me.

Jonathan: I mean it, Charlotte. I have the biggest day of my life today. Vanguard Capital is signing the term sheet at 9 AM. I don't have time for your childish games.

Jonathan: Answer your phone! You need to get your things before my brother throws them in the trash.

I didn't reply. Instead, I swiped to open a message from Marcus.

Marcus: Process server is in position outside NexoCloud headquarters. The papers will be served the moment he enters the building.

I walked to my walk-in closet and selected a sharp, charcoal-gray double-breasted suit from Saint Laurent, pairing it with pointed black leather heels and a classic Patek Philippe watch. My hair was pulled back into a slick, low bun. The faint swelling on my lower lip was covered with dark red lipstick. I looked like what I was: a woman who controlled billions.

By 8:30 AM, my black Maybach was parked two blocks from the glass tower that housed NexoCloud’s corporate office. Sitting in the back seat, I watched the live video feed provided by my security team stationed at the entrance.

At 8:42 AM, Jonathan arrived in a yellow sports car he had rented for the week to "look the part" for his investors. He was accompanied by his father, Arthur, and his brother, Derek—both wearing cheap, off-the-rack suits, talking animatedly and slapping Jonathan on the back.

As Jonathan stepped up the grand marble stairs of the building, a man in a plain trench coat stepped out from behind a pillar.

"Jonathan Miller?" the man asked.

"Yeah? Who are you?" Jonathan replied impatiently, adjusting his tie. "I'm in a hurry. I have a meeting with Vanguard Capital."

"You've been served," the process server said smoothly, shoving a white envelope against Jonathan's chest before snapping a photograph and turning away.

Jonathan stared at the envelope, confused. Arthur snatched it from his hands and tore it open.

"What is this?" Arthur barked, his face turning red. "Divorce? On our wedding night?!"

Jonathan scoffed, throwing his head back in a forced laugh. "Is she serious? Charlotte filed for divorce? With what money? She probably used some online legal clinic!" He crumpled the paper and tossed it into a nearby trash can. "Let her play her little games. Once I sign this $120 million deal with Vanguard, I'll hire the best lawyer in Atlanta and strip her of every penny she thinks she has. Let's go up."

Inside the Maybach, I watched him walk into the elevator bank on the camera monitor.