The 99th Time My Husband’s Girlfriend Threatened to Break Up, He Turned Around and Handed Me the Divorce Papers
Julian’s ‘darling little thing’ was having her 99th ‘breakup‘ tantrum.
He handed me the divorce papers.
“Quinn, just sign it. It’s just to humor her. Once she cools down, we’ll get back together.”
This time, I didn’t refuse. I signed the divorce papers without hesitation.
The bystanders present were all murmuring, “Julian, you’re a legend! You’ve got your wife completely under your
thumb!”
“Spill your tricks, dude! Share your secrets to handling a woman!”
Julian snuffed out his cigarette butt, his face gleaming with pride.
“She’s head over heels for me. I could bring a woman home and screw her right here, and Quinn wouldn’t dare utter a peep.”
The laughter behind me exploded like fireworks, exposing the raw, ugly truth of my ten–year marriage.
That night, he brought the girl home.
The faint, bunny–like whimpers from the girl went on all night.
I picked up my pre–packed luggage and turned to leave.
Martha, our housekeeper, tried to stop me, but Julian just scoffed.
“Let her go. She’s nothing but a damn nobody without me!”
“Does she still think she’s that celebrated champion artist she once was?”
He provocatively kissed the young girl’s face, but his eyes were fixed on me.
The next day, the whole town was betting how many days it would take Julian’s ‘disobedient ex–wife‘ to come crawling
back.
But what they didn’t know was that the renowned director, my best friend Riley, who was personally flying me out to the International Art Gala, was already waiting in the extended limo outside.
This time, I was truly leaving.
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Seeing I wasn’t jealous, Julian rushed after me, grabbing my suitcase.
“Quinn, Stella’s dream is to be an artist. She wants to see the trophy. Let her play with it!”
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I lowered my gaze, looking at my fingers, aching and stiff from countless hours of painting.
Becoming a champion cost me a body riddled with aches and pains. He knew damn well how important that trophy was
to me.
He also knew it was the one thing I’d never leave behind if I left, but he deliberately went out of his way to thwart me.
He saw my silence and frowned impatiently.
“God, you’re annoying! Always with that pathetic, gloomy face. It’s bad luck just looking at you!”
“Just name your price. How much? Is a hundred million enough?”
Money. If it really came down to money between us, how much were the ten years of my prime, my peak fame, worth?
A bitter laugh escaped me as I looked at Stella’s face, six parts similar to my own when I was younger.
They say a man’s loyalty only extends to 18–year–old girls.
And who knows how long this girl, who rose to fame as ‘Little Quinn, will last with Julian.
I handed her the trophy, offering a heartfelt wish: “I hear you’re from the Art Academy too? Then I wish your dreams
come true soon!”
Seeing my obedient demeanor, he nodded, satisfied, and actually tried to appease me.
“As long as you take good care of Stella, I can consider adding her name to your artwork. But I can write your name a bit bigger.”
I scoffed, “Is she even *worthy?”
All because Julian said, “I can’t stand to see you work so hard. Just be Mrs. Julian, isn’t that enough?”
I announced my retirement from art at the City’s Best Female Artist award ceremony.
My decade as Julian’s wife was supposed to be my most precious years, but all he gave me in return was one affair after another!
And now he wanted to put someone else’s name on *my* artwork?
I grabbed my luggage and turned to walk away. Just then, Julian, in a fit of rage, hurled the trophy at me.
