Too Rich to Stay Divorced

Summary

In four short years, my wife went from an entry-level temp scrambling for rent to the thirteenth richest person on the Forbes list, presiding over a twelve-billion-dollar empire.

Me? I was an administrative clerk pulling thirty-five hundred a month after taxes, sweating over the mortgage on a cramped two-bedroom condo.

So I did the only sensible thing. I asked for a divorce, took a clean fifty-million-dollar buyout, and prepared to vanish into the sunset.

When I handed her the pen, her eyes were rimmed in red. "You finally found your spine, didn't you?" she whispered.