CHAPTER THREE #3
I called my lawyer—the one Karrie and I had used for estate planning. He didn't answer. When I left a voicemail, he texted back: "Conflict of interest. I'm representing Karrie. You'll need to find other counsel."
Even my own lawyer had chosen her.
I pulled up the prenup—the document I'd signed without reading carefully, the one that was about to destroy my life.
The infidelity clause was crystal clear: "In the event that either party engages in extramarital sexual relations, said party forfeits all claims to marital assets, including but not limited to real property, vehicles, investment accounts, and any assets purchased during the marriage with funds contributed by the non-offending party's family. "
Karrie's family had contributed everything. The down payment on the house. The investment accounts. The cars. Even my fucking boat.
I was going to walk away from this marriage with nothing.
The custody section was just as brutal: "In the event of divorce precipitated by infidelity, the non-offending party shall be granted primary physical custody of any minor children, with visitation rights for the offending party to be determined by the court based on the best interests of the children. "
I was going to lose my kids.
Marlow, who called me "Dada" and loved when I threw her in the air. Danika, who was just learning to walk, who giggled when I tickled her belly.
I was going to become a weekend visitor in their lives. If I was lucky.
I closed the laptop and lay down on the bed, staring at the water-stained ceiling.
Twenty-four hours ago, I'd had everything. A beautiful wife. Two perfect children. A nice house. A good job. A future.
Now I had nothing.
No job. No home. No family. No money. No prospects.
And it was entirely my fault.
My phone buzzed steadily with text I am assuming all from Jennifer.
She called and called until I finally answered.
I hung up and looked at the texts.
Jen: We need to talk. This is all your fault.
I stared at the message in disbelief. My fault? She'd been just as complicit. She'd seduced me, encouraged me, told me I deserved better than Karrie.
Jen: You told me you were going to leave her. You told me you loved me. You made me think we had a future.
Jen: You're a liar and a coward. I lost my job because of you. My entire career is ruined because YOU couldn't keep it in your pants.
Me? She was the one who came onto me.
Jen: You were stupid enough to fall for it. You thought I would actually want to be with you. Enjoy your shitty life, Bart. You deserve everything that's happening to you.
She blocked me.
I threw my phone across the room and heard it crack against the wall.
Even Jennifer—the woman I'd risked everything for—had turned on me.
I spent that first night in the motel room cycling through every stage of grief.
Denial: This couldn't be happening. Karrie would calm down. We'd work it out. She wouldn't actually take everything.
Anger: How dare she humiliate me like that? How dare she destroy my career, my reputation, my entire life? I'd made a mistake, sure, but did I really deserve this?
Bargaining: If I apologized enough, if I begged, if I promised to change, maybe she'd give me another chance. Maybe I could salvage something.
Depression: I'd lost everything. My children. My home. My career. My family. There was no coming back from this.
And finally, in the early hours of the morning, acceptance.
I'd done this to myself.
I'd chosen to cheat. Chosen to lie. Chosen to prioritize my ego and my dick over my wife and children.
I'd thought I was entitled to more. Thought I deserved Jennifer's enthusiasm and Karrie's money. Thought I could have it all without consequences.
I'd been so fucking wrong.
Karrie had been home with our babies while I was fucking my assistant in hotel rooms. She'd been managing our household, raising our children, building a life for us while I was texting another woman about how tight she was.
And when she found out, she hadn't fallen apart. She'd gotten strategic.
She'd waited for the perfect moment. Orchestrated the perfect confrontation. Destroyed me in front of everyone who mattered.
She'd been smarter than me. Stronger than me. Better than me in every possible way.
And I'd been too stupid and arrogant to see it.
The sun rose over the motel parking lot, and I lay in bed watching the light creep across the stained carpet.
I had no job. No home. No family. No money beyond what was in my checking account.
The video had three million views now. My face was a meme. My name was synonymous with "cheating bastard who got what he deserved."
No company would hire me. No woman would date me. No future employer would Google my name without finding that video.
I was thirty-four years old, and my life was effectively over.
All because I'd thought I deserved more than what I had.
All because I'd underestimated my wife.
All because I'd been stupid enough to think I could get away with it.
I picked up my cracked phone and looked at the last photo I had of my family. Karrie holding Danika, Marlow on my shoulders, all of us smiling at the camera.
That life was gone.
And I had no one to blame but myself.
I was completely and totally fucked.
And I deserved every second of it.