After I gave birth, Ethan was so worried I’d get postpartum depression and feel insecure that he went out of his way to replace our pretty maid with Bertha—a frumpy, two-hundred-pound housekeeper. Even though his company was incredibly busy, he made sure a different bouquet of fresh flowers and a thoughtful gift were delivered to my luxury postpartum recovery retreat every single day. That was until I received a torn custom designer gown. That very moment, I decided to end it. "We are getting a divorce. I don’t want a single penny of your money, and I never want to see your face again." The moment he got my text, he literally walked out of a multi-million-dollar business negotiation and rushed over to my retreat. "Chloe, I replaced our housekeeper of eight years just so you wouldn't feel insecure!" he panted, trying to defend himself. "You said you loved this designer, so I paid double and pre-ordered this gown six months in advance!" "And now you're telling me you want a divorce? What is wrong with you? What more do you want?!" I coldly threw the expensive gown onto the floor. "Why don't you give this gown to your new housekeeper then? I am divorcing you, Ethan. No matter what."
It took less than thirty minutes after I sent that text for Ethan to burst into my private suite at the recovery retreat. Beads of sweat lined his forehead. He had obviously run all the way here. "Chloe Vance, do you have any idea how big the deal I was negotiating just now was?" He was trying to suppress his anger, but his voice was shaking uncontrollably. "Just because of one text from you, I left the entire board of directors waiting in the conference room!" I pulled the pre-drafted divorce papers from my nightstand and slid them across the table. "Perfect timing. Sign this." "I get sole custody of our daughter. You can keep all your assets. I don’t want a single dime." Ethan’s face went pale in an instant. "What kind of game are you playing right now?" He stared at the document in sheer disbelief. "Just because of this gown? If you don't like it, I'll order you another one. Ten of them! A hundred! Whatever you want!" "I get it. You're mad at me because I've been too busy to spend time with you lately. But don't use divorce to throw a tantrum." I looked Ethan straight in the eye. "You know me, Ethan. I don't joke about things like this." He grabbed my hands, his eyes pleading. "Babe, please. I know your hormones are all over the place right now. You can scream at me, you can hit me, but please, don't do this." Outside the open door of my suite, a small crowd started to gather in the hallway. The nurses and some of the other wealthy mothers staying at the retreat began whispering among themselves. "What is she drama-queening about now? Her husband literally sends her different flowers and gifts every day. He’s like the perfect husband." "Right? I heard he even fired his hot, young maid and hired a two-hundred-pound, plain-looking housekeeper just so she wouldn't worry about him cheating!" "Some women are just so ungrateful. She just had a baby and she’s already starting drama." The whispers weren't loud, but they were loud enough to carry into the room. Ethan heard them too. He softened his voice, putting on his best caring-husband act. "Chloe, I know your hormones are making you sensitive right now." "We’ve been together for so many years, and we just had our beautiful baby girl. If something is bothering you, just tell me. We can fix this together." "But divorce? You can't just throw that word around." He sounded so incredibly sincere. But all I felt was a cold, bitter disgust. From college sweethearts to marriage, Ethan and I were each other’s first loves. We started our business together back in college. During the hardest times, I drank so much at business dinners to secure clients that I ended up with stomach bleeding. In the hospital room, he had held my hand tightly, swearing he would never let me suffer again, promising to make me the happiest woman in the world. And for a long time, he did exactly that. Everyone envied me for having such a perfect partner. During my pregnancy, even a slight frown on my face would make him worry for days. He insisted on doing everything himself whenever he could find the time. To prove he wouldn't stray while I was stuck in recovery, he even replaced our cute, efficient maid of eight years with Bertha, a frumpy, obese woman. But I simply pulled my hand out of Ethan's grip. "I am divorcing you. It's final." Seeing my cold determination, Bertha, who had been hovering outside the door, suddenly pushed her way into the room. "Mrs. Sterling, how can you treat Mr. Sterling like this?!" She yelled in her raspy voice, her chubby face twisted with righteous indignation. "Do you have any idea how much Mr. Sterling has done for you?!" "Just because you casually mentioned you liked this designer brand, Mr. Sterling pulled so many strings and paid a fortune to get this custom gown made for you." "And you? You just throw a fit and demand a divorce over a dress!" I gave her a disgusted look. "You're just a housekeeper. What right do you have to raise your voice at me in my own room?" "Since you care about him so much, why don't you marry him instead?"
Bertha’s face instantly flushed red with embarrassment. "Mrs. Sterling... please. Look at me. How could someone like Mr. Sterling ever look at a girl like me?" I let out a cold laugh. "My own mother hasn't even arrived yet, but you, a housekeeper, sure rushed over here fast, didn't you?" Bertha’s eyes flickered with panic. She quickly tried to explain, "I—I was just bringing some documents Mr. Sterling left at home. I was just tagging along." "When I heard you wanted a divorce, I just got worried. I felt bad for Mr. Sterling. Please don't overthink this." As she spoke, she actually started crying. "I've been fat since I was a kid. No boy ever looked at me in school." "If Mr. Sterling hadn't taken pity on me and given me this job, I wouldn't even have the money to pay for my mom's medical bills." The onlookers outside whispered as they took in Bertha's bloated frame and acne-scarred face. They shook their heads. "Is this wife crazy? She’s actually insecure about a housekeeper who looks like that?" "Exactly! Look at her size. She’s literally twice the size of her husband. What could he possibly see in her?" "If I looked like that housekeeper, I wouldn’t even dare to step out of the house, let alone try to steal someone's husband!" Hearing the crowd take his side, Ethan’s confidence seemed to return. He squeezed my hand tightly and whispered, "Chloe, even strangers can see how ridiculous this is. Why are you being so stubborn?" "I hired Bertha specifically so you wouldn't have to worry about anything during your recovery." "We've been together for years. Why can't you just trust me?" I looked at him and sneered. "Fine. Fire her right now." Ethan froze. A flash of hesitation crossed his eyes. "Mrs. Sterling!" Bertha suddenly fell to her knees, tears streaming down her round cheeks. "Mrs. Sterling, my mother is in end-stage kidney failure! She needs dialysis every week, and my salary is the only thing keeping her alive!" "I know I'm ugly and I hurt your eyes. I promise I'll only do the cleaning and cooking when you're not around. I will never show my face to you again! Please, please don't let Mr. Sterling fire me!" She wept hysterically, her heavy frame shaking with each sob. Sympathetic murmurs immediately broke out from the crowd in the hallway. "Oh my god, she’s so pitiful. Can't the wife show some mercy?" "Exactly. The wife is just paranoid. The poor housekeeper did nothing wrong." "I get that post-pregnancy hormones make you emotional, but this is just straight-up bullying." The whispers grew louder. Bertha even reached out and grabbed the hem of my robe. "Mrs. Sterling, I swear I'll stay far away from Mr. Sterling. Please, just give me and my mother a chance to survive." Seeing my face remain completely emotionless, Ethan’s expression hardened. "Chloe, this is too much. Why do you have to bully a poor housekeeper?" Watching the two of them perform their little sob story, I wanted to laugh. "Ethan, you know exactly what dirty laundry you've been hiding. Stop treating me like an idiot." I didn't want to waste any more words. I threw the divorce papers directly at his face. Right then, the crowd parted, and my mother rushed into the room. Her face was pale with worry as she pushed through the onlookers to get to my bedside. "Chloe! My sweet girl, what on earth is going on? Why are you suddenly talking about divorce?" "Tell me, did Ethan do something to hurt you?" "If you're hurting, tell me. I’m right here. I won't let anyone mistreat you."
Looking into my mother’s worried eyes, my throat tightened. My mom had always spoiled me. Ever since I got pregnant, she had protected me like I was made of glass. She and my dad had a perfect marriage, and she had always assumed Ethan and I were just as happy. Hearing about the divorce was a complete shock to her. I opened my mouth, but the words felt heavy. Seeing my hesitation, Ethan quickly stepped forward. He looked incredibly polite and humble. "Mom, thank god you're here. Please help me talk to Chloe." "I think I've just been too busy with work lately and haven't spent enough time with her. She's upset, and now she’s taking it out on our marriage." His words immediately painted him as the victim to the crowd outside. "See? What a great guy. He’s taking all the blame." "Honestly, postpartum depression is real, but threatening divorce every second is just toxic." "He literally sends flowers and gifts every day. Sure, he’s busy, but his heart is in the right place. What else does she want?" My mother listened to the murmurs, then looked at Ethan’s seemingly sincere face. Her brow furrowed slightly. But she still turned to me gently. "Chloe, I know you wouldn't make a scene for no reason. What is it really?" As she spoke, her eyes drifted to Bertha, who was trying to shrink her massive body into the corner of the room. Seeing Bertha’s plain, overweight appearance, a flash of confusion crossed my mother’s eyes. "Ethan replaced your old maid with someone... so plain, just to make sure you felt secure," my mother said carefully, choosing her words. "If he went to those lengths... Chloe, are you sure you aren't just feeling lonely because he's been working so much?" "No, Mom," I said, lifting my head. My voice was quiet but steady. "It’s not because he's busy. I am divorcing him. And nothing will change my mind." "Babe!" Ethan’s eyes welled with tears. "What did I do wrong? Just tell me and I'll fix it! I swear I'll fix it!" "I can put the company on hold. I’ll stay here with you and the baby every day, okay?" "Our daughter is so small. She needs a father. Please don't talk about divorce anymore." Hearing him mention our daughter, my eyes involuntarily drifted to the bassinet where my baby girl was sleeping peacefully. Bertha chimed in again, "Mrs. Sterling, this is all my fault! If you really can't stand the sight of me, I'll leave!" "I’ll sell my own blood to pay for my mom’s dialysis! I can't let you and Mr. Sterling divorce because of me!" That comment was the final straw for the crowd outside. "Are you kidding me? She’s literally forcing this poor girl to sell her blood!" "She is heartless! That poor housekeeper!" People in the hallway started openly criticizing me, their voices rising. The whole scene was so absurd it was almost comical. Any remaining doubt in my heart vanished completely. I pushed the divorce papers closer to Ethan. "Ethan, if you want to play the saint and charity case for her and her sick mother, go ahead. It has nothing to do with me." "Sign the papers, and you can play hero all you want. I won't care." "But I’ve changed my mind. I’m not just taking our daughter. I’m stripping you of every single asset. You are leaving with nothing."
The words "leaving with nothing" sent a shockwave through the room. Ethan’s face twisted. "Chloe Vance, do you even hear yourself?" I looked at him, completely calm. "You heard me. I want you to leave with absolutely nothing." "Are you out of your mind?!" he hissed under his breath. "I built this company with my own blood, sweat, and tears! On what grounds are you demanding my assets? Because of your baseless, paranoid accusations?!" "Your blood, sweat, and tears?" I repeated softly. "Ethan, did you forget where the seed money and the core technology for the company came from?" "Did you forget how many times I had to bail you out of your own messes?" I stared him down. "Last year, when your terrible decision-making caused a massive cash flow crisis, who was the one who used her family connections to secure the emergency funding that saved us?" "And now you think you own it all?" I let out a cold chuckle. "How do you sleep at night, using my family’s resources while gaslighting me like I’m an idiot?" "I have never lied to you!" Ethan defended himself passionately. "Chloe, you can't just make things up because you're in a bad mood! You need proof!" "Proof?" I looked at him and smirked. "Don't worry. I have all the proof I need. It's coming." "Right now, I just want to see your attitude. Are you going to sign, or not?" My mother looked between the two of us, torn. "Chloe, sweetie, please tell me what’s actually going on. You can't just get a divorce over a misunderstanding." "But if you're saying it's because of the housekeeper... surely there’s a mistake?" Ethan immediately seized on my mother’s doubt. "Mom! Exactly! Think about it!" "Why would I ever do anything with her? What could I possibly gain from that?" He pointed at Bertha, his voice dripping with insulted pride. "Yes, I admit I’ve been busy and haven't been home much. But she can’t just slander me like this!" Beside him, Bertha kept her head down, looking like a trembling, innocent victim. "Fine!" I finally spoke. The room fell dead silent. Everyone stared at me. "Since you all want a reason so badly, and since you're forcing me to drag this trash into the light..." I took a deep breath, speaking clearly so everyone could hear: "I’ll tell you exactly why I am divorcing this man!"
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