The Wife He Cast Out

“The freezing rain lashed at my face as David locked me out for the third time this week. My voice trembled as I begged, "David, please. It' s cold. Let me in." His only answer was the TV volume growing louder, a clear sign he didn' t care. Just five years ago, I was Sarah Miller, Wall Street' s "Golden Eyes," a financial genius with a fortress of wealth. Then David Smith arrived, charming and protective, convincing me to trade my career for a quiet life, a family, pouring all my assets into his hands. I even underwent a "special procedure" he insisted on-a bone marrow transfer that left me with a permanent chill and weakness, supposedly to protect his health and our prosperity. A year later, his college sweetheart, Olivia White, walked back into his life. Tonight, as I shivered on the porch, our 8-year-old son, Ethan, opened the door, his face a cold copy of his father' s. "Dad said you need to think about what you did wrong," Ethan announced, flatly. "Olivia is here. She' s way nicer than you." David and Olivia appeared, his arm around her, a smug look on his face. "Still out here, Sarah?" he sneered. "Maybe the cold will knock some sense into you. You' ve become useless. All you do is spend my money." "Your money?" I whispered, the words catching in my throat. "David, it was my money. My life' s work." Olivia laughed a sharp, unpleasant sound. "Oh, Sarah. That was a long time ago. You' re just a housewife now. David is the one making the real moves." He pulled her closer. "I' ve been investing our money into Olivia' s tech startup. It' s the future. It' s for Ethan' s education." The blatant lie stole my breath. I had seen the financials; her startup was a fraudulent mess. He was stealing from me to fund his affair. "You' re lying," I said, finding my voice. "That company is worthless. You' re throwing our money away on her." His face hardened. "Don' t you dare question my judgment. You gave up that life, remember?" Even Ethan parroted, "Yeah, Mom! Dad' s smart. Olivia is smart. You just cook and clean." Their words, twisting my son' s voice, finally broke me. I looked at David' s face and saw no love, just a manipulator who saw me as a bank account. My sacrifice wasn' t love; it was a successful transaction. The cold rain no longer bothered me. A clarifying rage settled deep within. The naive woman on the doorstep was gone, mourned by no one but herself. I stopped pleading. I stopped shivering. My eyes, clear and steady for the first time in years, saw him for what he was: a self-serving thief. Without a word, I turned and walked away, leaving him shouting, "Sarah! Where are you going? Get back here!" I didn' t look back. He thought I was a washed-up housewife, but he had forgotten about the Golden Eyes. They built their empire with my money. I was going to take it all back. And then, I was going to burn their world to the ground.”