After a tumultuous marriage where Mike's obsession with material wealth dominated their lives, Nicole makes a shocking decision: she agrees to give Mike everything in their divorce. But just as Mike savors his "victory," Nicole's laughter hints at a hidden agenda. What he doesn't know is that she's orchestrating her final, brilliant move.

I stepped out of the lawyer's office, trying to mask any emotion. My shoulders slumped, and I looked every bit the defeated ex-wife, as the cold rain fell around me. The dull gray sky matched my mood—or at least the one I wanted people to see.

Inside, though, I was anything but defeated. My hands gripped the cold steel of the door handle as I moved toward the elevator. No one was around. Perfect.

The elevator door slid shut behind me with a soft "ding," and as soon as I was alone, a giggle escaped my lips. It wasn't planned; it bubbled up from somewhere deep inside me, like a cork popping off a bottle of champagne.

The more I thought about what I had just done, the more my laughter grew, until I was cackling like a madwoman in that elevator. If anyone had been around, they probably would have thought I'd lost my mind, but this? This was just the beginning.

The house, the car, the savings—Mike could have it all. It was exactly what I wanted. He thought he'd won, and that was the best part. He had no idea what was coming next.

The elevator came to a stop with a jolt, and I quickly composed myself. Glancing at my reflection in the mirrored walls, I saw my messy hair, tired eyes, and the faint smile still lingering on my lips. I didn't care. This was going to be fun.

---

A few weeks earlier, things had been falling apart for a long time. Mike and I hadn’t been happy for years, but it wasn't just a simple case of growing apart. Mike was obsessed with his image—everything about him screamed "wealth" and "success." He drove flashy cars, lived in the largest house on the block, and wore only designer clothes.

But all of it was just a performance, one I had played my part in for too long. The cracks were starting to show, and as the arguments grew more frequent, I knew the end was near.

The thing is, I wasn't afraid of the divorce. I knew exactly how Mike would handle it.

He didn’t care about saving the marriage—he just wanted to win. He wanted to win the house, win the money, win the divorce.

As for me, all I wanted was to be free of his pretentious lifestyle. But that didn’t mean I was going to let him walk all over me. So, I let him think he was getting exactly what he wanted. But I had a plan—a trap laid out with the precision of a fishhook.

---

It happened on a Tuesday. Mike came home late, as usual. I was in the kitchen, pretending to scroll through my phone, not bothering to look up when he stormed in.

"We need to talk," he said, his voice sharp.

I sighed dramatically, barely masking the boredom in my voice. "What now?"

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

"I'm done," he said, his voice tight. "I want a divorce."

I blinked up at him. Finally. I nodded slowly, as though the weight of his words was just now sinking in. But really, I had been prepared for this moment for weeks.

"Okay," I said simply.

His eyes narrowed, confusion creeping in. "That’s it? No fight? No begging?"

I shrugged nonchalantly. "What’s the point?"

For a moment, he looked truly puzzled, like I had just taken all the wind out of his sails. He expected me to plead with him to stay, but I just needed to let him dig his own grave.

The divorce negotiations were exactly what I had expected. We sat across from each other in a sterile conference room, surrounded by lawyers, while Mike detailed every little thing he wanted. The house, the car, the savings—it was like he was making a shopping list.

And the whole time, he had this smug grin on his face, as if he was waiting for me to crack and break down in tears.

"Fine," I said, barely listening. "You can have it all."

My lawyer shot me a quick glance. "Are you sure?" he seemed to be asking. But I just nodded.

Mike blinked, taken aback. "Wait, what?"

"I said, you can have everything. I don’t want any of it, except for my personal belongings."

His expression went from stunned to gleeful in a split second. "Great. Then pack up your stuff this afternoon. It’s not much, so that should be plenty of time." He glanced at his watch. "I expect you out by six."

"No problem," I replied.

He puffed out his chest, acting like he had just won the lottery. And I let him think that.

---

And that brings me back to that moment in the elevator at the lawyer's office, when I could no longer hold back my laughter.

As I stepped out of the elevator, I pulled out my phone and typed out a quick message: I’m heading to the house to pack up my things. I’ll call you when it’s time to make your move.

I hit send and grinned. The real fun was just beginning.

---

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

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

"Hey," I said, keeping my tone casual. "It’s time."

There was a brief pause before her voice came through, stern and ready. "Finally. I’ve been waiting for this moment."

My mom had never liked Mike. She had seen through his flashy façade the moment I introduced them. But the best part? She was the one who had helped us buy the house. She was the reason Mike thought he had gotten such a good deal on it, and now she would be the reason he lost it.

I hung up, feeling a strange sense of satisfaction. I was done pretending.

---

The next morning, I was making breakfast in my new little apartment when my phone rang. Mike’s name flashed across the screen. I smiled and answered sweetly.

"Hello?"

"You set me up!" Mike’s voice was seething, almost unhinged.

I put the phone on speaker, grabbed a piece of toast, and leaned against the counter. "I’m sorry, what are you talking about?"

"Your mother!" he snapped. "She’s... she’s taken over everything!"

I took a bite of my toast and shrugged. "Oh, right. Remember that agreement we signed when she gave us the down payment? The one that lets her live there whenever she wants, for as long as she wants?"

There was a long silence on the other end, and I could almost hear the gears turning in his brain. He was piecing it together.

"You! You cheated me! This isn’t over. I’m getting my lawyers—"

Before he could finish, I heard my mom’s voice loud and clear in the background. "Michael, get your feet off that coffee table! And stop hogging the remote!"

There was a pause, followed by more muttering from Mike.

"Oh, hush," my mom interrupted. "It’s my house just as much as yours. And another thing—what’s with all these cheap snacks? You need to learn how to grocery shop! I’m not living off frozen dinners!"

I had to bite my lip to hold in my laughter. Mike mumbled something, but before he could continue, my mom’s voice rang out again.

"And turn down that TV! If you’re going to watch those ridiculous car shows, at least mute them!"

There was a loud crash, followed by more grumbling, and then the phone abruptly clicked off. I smiled, settling into my chair. This was only the beginning.