My Ex-husband Left Me Homeless – Updated Stories
“What if I say no?” I asked, my voice barely audible.
She looked me up and down, taking in my tattered coat and the grime under my fingernails. “The choice, Ms. Hartfield, is entirely yours.”
I clutched the envelope to my chest, its sharp edges digging into my skin. It was a choice between this life of trash and cold, or a life of unimaginable wealth that came at the price of vengeance.
There was no real choice at all.
“I’ll do it,” I said, the words feeling heavy and strange.
Diane gave a slight nod, a flicker of something unreadable in her eyes. “Very well. A car will pick you up from this location tomorrow morning at nine. Be ready.”
She turned and walked back to her town car, leaving me alone with the stench of garbage and the weight of a fortune.
The next morning, I was waiting. I had spent my last few dollars at an all-night laundromat, washing my clothes until they were threadbare but clean.
A different car arrived, but the driver was just as professional. He drove me to a sleek, modern hotel and handed me a key card.
“Ms. Diane has arranged this suite for you,” he said. “She will meet you this evening.”
The room was bigger than the entire apartment Todd and I had first shared. I stood in the middle of it, feeling like an intruder.
