My ex-husband kept our house, car and all our money after the divorce – I laughed because it was exactly what I had planned

After a bitter marriage marred by Mike’s obsession with material wealth, Nicole surprisingly agrees to give him everything in their divorce. But as Mike gloats over his “victory,” Nicole’s laughter reveals a secret plan at work. What Mike doesn’t know is that she’s about to make her final move.

I left the lawyer’s office expressionless, shoulders slumped, looking like a defeated ex-wife. The rain was coming down hard and the grey sky matched my mood, or at least the mood I wanted people to think I was in.

Inside, it was humming. My hands gripped the cold steel of the door handle as I headed toward the elevator. There was no one there. Good thing.

The elevator door closed behind me with a soft clink, and as soon as I was alone, I let out a giggle. It wasn’t something I had planned, but it came from deep within me, like champagne finally uncorked.

The more I thought about what I had just done, the more it grew, until I started laughing like a crazy person in the elevator.

If anyone saw me at that moment, they would think that I had finally snapped, that I had gone crazy from so much stress, but no, this was just the beginning. Everything was falling into place perfectly.

The house, the car, the savings – Mike could have them all. That was exactly what he wanted. He thought he had won, and that was the best thing. He had no idea what was coming.

The elevator came to a screeching halt, and I pulled myself together. I looked at my reflection in the mirror on the elevator wall: hair disheveled, eyes tired, and a slight smile still on my lips. I didn’t even care. This was going to be fun.

A few weeks before…

Mike and I hadn’t been happy for years, but it wasn’t your typical heartbreak. Mike was obsessed with his image. He was all about flashy cars, having the biggest house in the neighborhood, and only wearing designer clothes.

It was all an act, and I had played my part for far too long. Cracks had begun to appear, and as arguments became more frequent, I knew it wasn’t long before the inevitable happened.

The thing is, I wasn’t scared of divorce. I knew Mike and I knew exactly how it would end.

He didn’t care about saving the marriage. No, what he wanted was to win: win the house, win the money, win the divorce.

All I wanted was to be free from that pretentious lifestyle. But that didn’t mean I was going to let it hurt me either. So I was going to let Mike have what he wanted, but with a trap as sharp as a hook.

It happened on a Tuesday. Mike came home late, again. I was standing in the kitchen, pretending to check my phone, not bothering to look up, when he burst in.

“We need to talk.”

I sighed, barely keeping the boredom out of my voice. “What now?”

He slammed his keys against the counter and I could practically feel the frustration radiating off him. He always got like this when things didn’t go his way at work and of course I was the easiest target.

“It’s over,” she said, her voice low and tense. “I want a divorce.”

I blinked. Finally. I nodded slowly, as if I was taking it in, but in reality I had been preparing for this moment for weeks.

“Okay,” I said simply.

He frowned, clearly surprised. “That’s it? No struggling? No begging?”

I shrugged. “What’s the point?”

For a second, he looked confused, like I’d taken the wind out of his sails. I expected him to resist, to beg him to stay.

But I just had to wind him up to hang himself.

The divorce negotiations were just as awful as I expected. We were sitting across from each other in a sterile conference room, with the lawyers flanking us, as Mike outlined every little thing he wanted. The house, the car, the savings — it was like he was reading a grocery list.

And the whole time he had a smug little smile on his face, as if he thought I might burst into tears at any moment.

“Okay,” I said, barely listening. “You can have it all.”

My lawyer gave me a look that clearly said, “Are you sure?” But I just nodded.

Mike blinked. “Wait, what?”

“I said you can keep it. I don’t want any of it except my personal possessions.”

He looked stunned. “You… don’t want the house? Or the money?”

“No,” I said, leaning back in my chair. “It’s all yours.”

His surprise quickly turned to glee. “Great. Then take this afternoon to pack up your belongings. It’s not much, so you’ll have plenty of time.” Mike glanced at his watch. “I expect you to be out by six.”

“No problem,” I replied.

He sat up straighter, puffing out his chest like he’d just won the lottery. And I let him think about it.

And that brought me back to that moment when I got into the elevator in the law building and I couldn’t contain my laughter.

Stepping out of the elevator, I pulled out my phone. My fingers hovered over the screen for a second before I typed out a quick message: ” I’m heading home to pick up my stuff. I’ll call you when it’s time to move.”

I hit send and smiled. It was time for the real fun to begin.

Packing my things was easier than I thought. I didn’t want much, just a few personal things, mostly items that held memories that weren’t tainted by Mike. The house was too big for just the two of us anyway, and it had always felt more like his house than mine.

I was sealing the last box when I picked up the phone to make the call. My mother, Barbara, answered on the second ring.

“Hello,” I said, my voice light. “It’s about time.”

There was a pause, and then Mom’s familiar, serious tone came in. “Finally. I’ve been waiting for this moment.”

Mom couldn’t stand Mike. She saw through his flashy facade the day I introduced them. But the best part? She had helped us buy the house. She was the reason Mike thought he’d gotten a good deal on her, and now she was going to be the reason he’d lost her.

I hung up and felt a strange relief as I looked around. I had stopped pretending.

The next morning, I was making breakfast in my new apartment when the phone rang. I smiled with satisfaction when Mike’s name appeared on the screen.

“Hello!” I replied sweetly.

“You set me up!” Mike’s voice was furious, practically foaming at the mouth.

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I put the phone on speaker and grabbed a piece of toast as I leaned against the counter. “Excuse me, what are you talking about?”

“Your mother!” he snapped. “She’s… she’s in my house! She’s taken over everything.”

“Oh, right,” I said, biting into my toast. “Remember the agreement we signed when he gave us the advance? The one that lets him live there whenever he wants, for as long as he wants?”

There was a long pause, and I could practically hear the gears in his brain turning. I could imagine the look on his face when he realized.

He had signed that paper years ago, too blinded by the allure of a luxurious house to think twice about the fine print.

“You! You’ve tricked me! This isn’t over. I’m going to call my lawyers…”

Before I could finish, I heard Mom’s voice in the background, high-pitched and sharp through the phone. “Mike, you better get your feet off that coffee table! And stop hogging the TV remote.”

There was a muffled sound, as if Mike had stepped away from the phone, trying to whisper. “Barbara, this is my house…”

“Are you whispering?” Mom interrupted, louder now. “It’s my house as much as it is yours. And another thing, what’s this about cheap sandwiches? Do you know how to shop? I don’t live on frozen dinners.”

I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing. Mike mumbled something incoherent, his frustration barely contained, but before he could say another word, I heard it again.

“And turn down the volume on the TV! Do you think I want to listen to that nonsense all day? If you’re going to watch those ridiculous car shows, at least mute it!”

There was a loud bang, followed by some more mumbling, and then the phone abruptly went off. I took a deep breath and smiled as I sat down at the table.

Freedom has never been so sweet.

Here’s another story: When I heard my husband telling his friends that I look worse than his ex, I knew I had to do something and I taught him a lesson that was crazy. Click here to read more.

This work is inspired by real people and events, but has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to real people, living or dead, or real events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

The author and publisher do not guarantee the accuracy of events or the depiction of characters, and are not responsible for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and the opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.

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