The $3 Million Escape

The $3 Million Escape

Eileen

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For fifteen years, my wife Sarah' s complaints were the soundtrack of my life. "Eight thousand dollars," she' d whine, always about the paltry dowry my mother gave us. It was a constant, low-level hum, punctuated by her rants about her cousin Jessica' s lavish gifts and exotic vacations. Tonight, after a call with Jessica, it escalated. "Hawaii again," she fumed, eyes burning with a strange, calculating fire. Then, the unthinkable: "What if we get divorced?" A fake divorce, she clarified, a scheme to extort money from my mother. She envisioned millions, and my mother' s precious jewelry. I stared at her, stunned by the audacity, the naked greed. My phone buzzed. A text from my boss: `$3 million bonus. Wire transfer tomorrow.` A strange calm washed over me. The words silenced Sarah' s relentless complaining, the past fifteen years of bitterness. I looked at her, truly looked at her, and a plan of my own began to form. This wasn' t just about the money anymore. It was about quiet, about peace, about freedom. "Okay," I said, my voice steady, surprising even myself. "Let' s do it." Her triumphant grin missed the cold resolve settling deep in my gut. This wasn' t her fake divorce. It was my real one.

Introduction

For fifteen years, my wife Sarah' s complaints were the soundtrack of my life.

"Eight thousand dollars," she' d whine, always about the paltry dowry my mother gave us.

It was a constant, low-level hum, punctuated by her rants about her cousin Jessica' s lavish gifts and exotic vacations.

Tonight, after a call with Jessica, it escalated.

"Hawaii again," she fumed, eyes burning with a strange, calculating fire.

Then, the unthinkable: "What if we get divorced?"

A fake divorce, she clarified, a scheme to extort money from my mother.

She envisioned millions, and my mother' s precious jewelry.

I stared at her, stunned by the audacity, the naked greed.

My phone buzzed.

A text from my boss: `$3 million bonus. Wire transfer tomorrow.`

A strange calm washed over me.

The words silenced Sarah' s relentless complaining, the past fifteen years of bitterness.

I looked at her, truly looked at her, and a plan of my own began to form.

This wasn' t just about the money anymore.

It was about quiet, about peace, about freedom.

"Okay," I said, my voice steady, surprising even myself. "Let' s do it."

Her triumphant grin missed the cold resolve settling deep in my gut.

This wasn' t her fake divorce.

It was my real one.

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