Vanessa sat with a divorce lawyer two days later. Just a consultation, she told herself.

"Do you want the house?" the lawyer asked.

"I want my kids to have stability."

"And custody?"

She didn’t hesitate. "Mine."

She went home and stared at the family photo wall.

All smiles. All lies.

She picked up the photo from their trip to Disney last year and quietly placed it face down.

The Mistress Shows Her Face

Vanessa didn't expect to see her. Not at the grocery store.

Kara. In yoga pants and designer sunglasses, too pretty to care.

Their eyes met. Kara smirked.

"You're Vanessa," she said, like greeting a TV character.

Vanessa stared. "You're the woman who doesn't care who she destroys."

Kara's smile faltered. "He never said you were this bitter."

Vanessa stepped forward. "And he never said you were this stupid."

She left her cart behind and walked out.

Michael sat at the dining table when she returned home. Paperwork in front of him. His face was pale.

"You're serious about this?"

"I am."

"What about the kids? The house?"

"They deserve better. So do I."

He looked down. "I didn’t mean for it to go this far."

"You never do. That’s the problem."

He started to cry. She didn’t.

Her tears were long gone.

She walked upstairs, closed the bedroom door, and for the first time in months, slept peacefully.