“Miss Miller, wait for the bird to be in the air,” Kevin had advised. “Once he’s on that plane, he can’t stop you.”
I checked the time. His flight had been airborne for twenty minutes.
I typed in the amount: $650,482.17.
Destination: My personal high-yield savings account.
I entered my PIN. The screen buffered for a second that felt like an eternity, and then, a green checkmark appeared.
Transfer Successful.
A wave of relief, cold and refreshing, washed over me. It was done. The money was gone. Every single penny of the blood, sweat, and tears I had poured into this marriage was now safe.
I didn’t stop there. I walked into the bedroom, grabbed a suitcase, and began packing not my things, but his.
The next morning, I didn’t go to work. I went to war.
I sat in the office of Miss Eleanor Davis, a divorce attorney Kevin had recommended. She was a woman in her late forties with eyes like polished steel and a suit that cost more than my first car.
“So,” Miss Davis said, reviewing the file Kevin had prepared. “Let me get this straight. He thinks you’re the weeping, devoted wife waiting at home. Meanwhile, he’s flying to Canada to start a new life with his mistress, using marital funds.”
“Correct,” I said, my voice steady. “And I emptied the joint account last night.”
Miss Davis’s lips curled into a rare, approving smile. “Excellent. Possession is nine-tenths of the law, and given that the majority of those deposits can be traced to your salary, we have a strong claim. You stopped him from embezzling marital assets.”
“What’s the next step?”
“We file immediately,” she said, pulling out a legal pad. “Since he has left the jurisdiction, we can’t file for a simplified divorce. We have to file a petition based on fault—adultery and attempted dissipation of assets. We will also file a motion to freeze any other assets he might try to liquidate.”
