EPILOGUE
COLLINS
One year later, I stood in the penthouse apartment I'd bought with the divorce settlement, looking out at the Denver skyline. The city glittered below me, full of possibility and promise.
My phone buzzed. A text from Memphis: Dinner tonight? I'm buying.
I smiled. Memphis and I had been dating for six months now. Nothing serious yet, but it was easy. Comfortable. He made me laugh. Made me feel valued. Never made me question whether I was enough.
The opposite of Wayne in every way that mattered.
My career had exploded after the gala. Turns out, publicly destroying your cheating husband made you something of a folk hero in certain circles. I'd been profiled in Forbes, invited to speak at conferences, headhunted by companies offering obscene salaries.
I'd started my own consulting firm instead. Helped other women navigate divorces, negotiate settlements, reclaim their power. Business was booming.
Wayne, from what I'd heard, was working at a mid-level position at a company in Colorado Springs. Living in a modest apartment. Dating occasionally but nothing serious. His reputation was still toxic, his name still associated with scandal.
I didn't feel bad about it. Didn't feel guilty. He'd made his choices. I'd made mine.
Some people thought I'd gone too far. That public humiliation was cruel, that I should have handled it privately. But those people had never been betrayed like I had. Never had to watch their husband fuck another woman in their own home.
I'd given Wayne five years of my life. My love. My trust. My loyalty.
He'd given me lies and betrayal.
So I'd given him consequences.
Fair trade.
I texted Memphis back: Sounds perfect. Pick me up at 7?
Then I poured myself a glass of wine, put on some music, and danced in my living room. Alone. Free. Unbroken.
Wayne had tried to destroy me. Instead, he'd forged me into something stronger. Something unbreakable.
I'd risen from the ashes of my marriage like a phoenix, and I was never looking back.
The best revenge, they say, is living well.
But I'd found that the best revenge was living well and making sure everyone knew exactly why your ex-husband was living in a studio apartment in Aurora.
I raised my glass to my reflection in the window. To new beginnings. To second chances. To the woman I'd become.
And to Wayne, wherever he was, drowning in the consequences of his own actions.
Cheers, motherfucker.